


The Bird of Hermes

by elwon



Series: TentaTodd [21]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Baskerville transformation, Blood, Bloodplay, Body Horror, Bondage, Canon-Typical Violence, Damian's an adult but he's still a little shit, Dick: it's still domming if I order him to pleasure me, Erotic blood feeding, Gore, Hellsing AU - Freeform, Horror, Human!Dick, Humour, Impregnation Kink, Intercrural Sex, Jason and Alfred killing nazis, Jason's unexpected views on the British Monarchy, M/M, Oral Sex, Shadow tentacles, Some dialogue taken from Hellsing, Steph's west country accent is the jaydick server's fault, Temporary Decapitation, Vampire!Jason, Vampires, Walter is split between Alfred and Tim, by which I mean Hellsing canon, dom!dick, dominant bottom dick, sexual awakenings, sexual content in later chapters, sub!Jason, technically this is a tentatodd fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26991205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwon/pseuds/elwon
Summary: Part 1: In which Dick discovers the Dracula in the dungeon, and takes over his father’s organisation.Part 2: In which Richard Wayne Grayson Hellsing becomes a countess, a knight, and an adult, in that order.Part 3: In which Dick orders vampires slain, welcomes a new member to his organisation, and has a good time.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson
Series: TentaTodd [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1272866
Comments: 62
Kudos: 169





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Jaydick Hellsing AU Fanart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26334325) by [Nottak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nottak/pseuds/Nottak). 



Dick scampers through the old air vents of the basement as quickly as he can, making as little noise as possible. His uncle’s men are still looking for him after three days of avoiding them. By contrast, Uncle Richard’s men are trampling around his home like a herd of elephants. Dick was under the impression these men were meant to be trained in the art of vampire hunting. How they do it without alerting any bloodsuckers is beyond him. 

It’s been three long days of avoiding adults Dick thought he could trust. Three long days of barely anything to eat or drink. Three long days since his father finally succumbed to the poison ravaging his system; telling Dick that he was his successor to Hellsing, before dying right in front of Dick. Three days since his father asked his uncle to support Dick with his dying words. Three days since his uncle lied right to his father’s face. Three days since Dick has been running for his life.

A wave of despair and grief floods over Dick. He misses his father so much. If only he were here then Dick wouldn’t crawling along the dusty air vents, looking for a long-forgotten basement. Dick’s father had never been one for vague statements, which is exactly why Dick had remembered his father’s words so clearly. 

“ _If you should encounter extreme danger, or if you should be overrun by the enemy with no escape, go to the forgotten dungeon beneath Hellsing. There lies a means to protect you. There you will find an “achievement” of the Hellsing family’s effort_ ” 

Uncle Richard’s voice carries through the air vents; and with fury beginning to crawl through his veins, Dick hears his uncle telling his men to kill him on sight. It pushes Dick on, through the warren of vents that Dick had never understood why his father had forced him to memorise. Dick’s grateful now, but the fact he’d had to remember the vents and the overall layout of Hellsing’s headquarters means that his father had a suspicion that Uncle Richard would try for a hostile takeover.

Dick finally finds the junction to drop out of, right by the abandoned basement and slips out as quietly as he can. The basement door is right there, a painted red sigil covering the entire thing. Dick supposes that makes sense. There’s a weapon in there to keep him safe. A secret weapon would need magic to hide it.

He takes a deep breath, putting both hands on the door handle, pulling it open. He sees a vision; an image of a monster in red, with glowing eyes, attacking and killing Hellsing soldiers with no remorse or hesitation. Of the same monster being bound and locked up in this room beyond the door. It’s a heavy, metal thing, and it takes all of Dick’s strength to get it to shift even the smallest distance. Eventually it swings open with a barely there creak. The basement is not quite pitch black and Dick takes a second to steel his nerves before he steps inside, pulling the door closed behind him quickly. 

With the door shut and only the smallest of windows letting in any light, it takes Dick a moment to be able to see. There’s nothing in the room but a dried up old corpse. There’s another flash of images, and Dick sees the monster that killed those Hellsing soldiers from the vision before, getting locked into this cell. Which means this corpse is the monster he saw earlier, only now with white hair.

Dick only knows that Uncle Richard has found him with the bullet grazes his shoulder, knocking him from his feet into the darkened room. Dick’s blood splatters onto the ground, and falling hurts, but not as much as knowing that it’s his own flesh and blood that’s about to kill him. “Twenty years I wanted for my brother-in-law to die! I’ll never let you have Hellsing, it’s mine!”

“Hellsing’s future was left with me because you’re like this, Uncle Richard!” Dick clutches at his upper arm, glaring up at the man he’d thought he could trust; the man his father had thought he could trust. Dick’s not even angry for himself, he’s angry for his father being betrayed.

Dick hears a ghostly voice inside his head. “ _You don’t want to die now?_ ” The white haired corpse has moved. It’s... It’s licking at the blood splatter on the floor. It moves suddenly attacking one of Richard’s flunkies ripping his head off, lifting it up above his mouth to drink all the blood that seeps out.

“A vampire?” Dick whispers in shock. “This is the result “achieved”? What was my family studying?” Richard’s other flunky goes down just as easily, his headless corpse landing on the ground with a soft thud.  
The vampire rips Richard’s arm off, blood flying everywhere, and Richard falls to the floor, screaming and moaning, slipping in the blood surrounding him. Dick grabs Richard’s gun, aiming it at the vampire. 

“You’re the one that awakened me?” The vampire smirks down at Dick, his unblinking gaze terrifyingly intense. His long hair is now black, falling over those glowing red eyes, but doing nothing to hide them.

“Don’t come any closer, monster!” Dick yells, his hands steady on the gun. All the years of training his father had put him through are paying off at this moment.

“Your blood made the finest wake-up drink after twenty years of sleeping.” The vampire smirks. Dick shoots the monster three times, leaving massive bullet holes in the shape of his body, but within a blink of an eye it’s had no effect. The bullet holes are gone as if they’d never even been there in the first place. He moves swiftly, pushing Dick up against the wall of the cell, and smirking into his face. “If you obey me, all these powers become yours.” He offers, smirking as if he thinks he’s being generous!

“You devil.” Dick snaps, putting as much anger and authority into his voice as any twelve year can muster. As if he’d ever accept to become some blood-sucker’s servant. “I’m Richard Wayne Grayson Hellsing, the head of the Hellsing Organisation! I’ll never let a vampire tell me what to do!”

“It’s no use using a gun on me.” The vampire says, pretty much ignoring Dick’s outburst. It even tries for a reasonable tone. “Kid, give up and listen to me.”

“Shut the hell up! I won’t give up. I’ll _never_ give up, even if I die.” Dick yells, standing up a little more, letting his pride and anger fuel him as he refuses and denies the monster in front of him. “That’s my pride as the head of Hellsing!”

“Wonderful! It’s really wonderful!” The vampire leers, pushing his face closer to Dick’s, hunger and want clear on his face. He seems genuinely delighted, but there’s a weird undercurrent to his body language, Dick notices. Everything is subtly off about this vampire. It’s a dark feeling that Dick hates, but is slightly intrigued by. “There’s a rage swelling between my legs.”

Dick’s so shocked he doesn’t even think before he acts, one shaking hand letting go of the gun to slap the vampire as hard as he can in the face. The vampire’s head doesn’t even move. There’s no sign that he’s even been hit, despite how much Dick’s hand is stinging. “I’m twelve!”

“Ah, so you are...” The vampire says, blinking once as if seeing Dick for the first time as the youth he is. “No wonder, you’re the son of that family.” In less than a heartbeat he’s kneeling down so far that he’s practically sitting on the floor “Please forgive all my impoliteness, Sir Hellsing. Give me an order, my Master.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! A brat and a monster?” Richard snarls, pushing himself up from the floor awkwardly and slowly with only one arm. He’s so angry he’s frothing at the mouth, and gesturing wildly with his remaining arm. “Hellsing is mine!” 

“Your blood really fucking stinks, Richard.” The vampire says, his voice practically dripping with disdain and disgust for Uncle Richard. He looks at him over his shoulder before turning back to Dick, clearly dismissing him from his attention. “You’re not qualified to be the master of this place.” 

Richard shoots at Dick, but the vampire’s arm takes the bullet. He barely even flinches, absorbing it before it can do Dick any harm. Seems like the vampire’s serious about being Dick being his _master_. At least enough to protect him, if nothing else. He’s proven that if he wanted Dick dead, he’d be dead. So, Dick rests the gun on the vampire’s arm. Dick takes aim and squeezes the trigger, sending three bullets into his Uncle Richard’s head. He should feel sadness and guilt and grief. Instead he feels nothing. The vampire kneeling in front of him grins on deeply approvingly.

***

The vampire escorts him to his father’s study. Dick takes a moment to breathe in the familiar sight of his father’s desk, the extremely high-backed chairs, the shelves and shelves of books, the various miscellanea on the side tables, the chess set and globe that fill a very Victorian study, before he turns to the still grinning vampire.

“So, what do I call you?” Dick moves his hands behind his back so the vampire can’t see how hard he’s clenching them. He’s not scared, he’s angry at the situation he’s been put in. And now he has to lead a paramilitary organisation at the age of twelve.

“Whatever you wish, Master.” The vampire says, bowing slightly. Dick can’t help but feel mocked. After a pause the vampire adds. “Your father called me Alucard.”

“Alucard?” Dick blinks, considering it. “Isn’t that just Dracula backwards?”

It’s the vampire, Alucard’s, turn to blink. “Ah. Yes.”

“Well, I’m not calling you that. It’s ridiculous.” Dick says trying to keep his temper even. It’s not _Alucard’s_ fault he has a really obvious name. He scans the familiar surroundings, and his eyes fall on a small model ship of the Argo. “I’m going to call you... Jason.”

“Well, that’s certainly very... Greek.” Is all the vampire says, his smile still frozen rather maniacally on his face. It’s disconcerting, to say the least. 

“Is that a problem?” Dick says, looking down at his blood-soaked arm. He ought to wrap that bullet graze up. 

“No, Master.” _Jason_ grins. “The fact your arm is still bleeding is a problem, though.”

Dick scoffs, going over to the cabinet that his father keeps... Kept his first aid kit in. He pulls the box out and opens it, taking out the iodine and bandages. He undoes his shirt, sliding his arm out and manages to apply the iodine, but struggles with doing the bandages one handed. Jason moves silently and ties the bandage up tightly without being asked, or even showing any interest in the blood dripping down Dick’s arm. In fact, he wipes Dick’s arm down with a bit of padding, throwing the dirty, used pad in a nearby bin without the slightest hint of anything on his face.

He moves away as Dick gets to his feet, pulling his shirt back on. “You want orders, Jason?” Dick says, standing up as straight as he can; putting some steel in his backbone.

“Yes, Master.” Jason smirks, his long black hair sweeping in front of his glowing red eyes. Dick thinks one of the orders he’ll need to give in the next few days is for the vampire to have a haircut.

“Bring me the remaining rebels. Alive. We need to clean house.” Dick says, trying his best to sound authoritative. He thinks he mostly manages it, but the unfortunate crack in his voice can’t be helped. Dick hates puberty. It’s so embarrassing. “Go.”

“Yes, Master.” Jason bows, giving another one of those mocking grins. But this time there’s a hint of pleasure in it. Or maybe satisfaction. 

Dick takes the moment alone to breathe out the air in his lungs that he’d been holding in since he first found Jason’s cell. He rests a shaking hand on his father’s desk. But it’s not his father’s desk. Not anymore. It’s his. He goes around and sits in his-now-not-his-father’s chair. Sitting down, his feet barely brush the ground. He feels dwarfed by the furniture, like the world has receded a great distance just by the act of being that side of the desk. He closes his eyes, sitting back in the chair and mentally taking ownership of not just where he’s sitting, of this desk, this _office_ , but of the Hellsing Organisation, and it’s duty to protect the country.

Jason melts out of the floor, a smirk fixed like stone on his face. Out of the shadows he brings with him spill four men. Dick’s heart twists as he recognises all of them. While two of them are unsurprising, given their closeness with his now deceased uncle, the other two make his eyebrows rise.

“Cleaning house, as requested, Master.” Jason grins wider, giving another small bow. It should be mocking but the way he keeps eye contact with Dick keeps it from feeling that way. 

“Thank you, Jason.” Dick says, his tone clipped. He thinks about forcing his voice to go deeper, but he sees the discomfort on Pennyworth’s face, and he realises he can _use_ his age to discomfort his opponents. “Chambers, Michaelthwaite. It’s no surprise you’re here.”

“Your uncle-” Michaelthwaite starts, his pale face all puffed up and red with anger.

“My uncle is dead.” Dick says, sitting back in the chair, and resting his hands on both arms. “The price for being a traitor is death.”

“Wait- ” Chambers cries out, getting off his knees and desperately moving toward Dick. Whatever else he’s about to say is cut off by Jason’s hand sticking out from the front of his chest.

“My Master gave his order.” Jason says with a glee that Dick finds disturbing. “Take your death with dignity, dog.”

Michaelthwaite screams, and for his reaction, receives Chambers’ now dead body being thrown at him, forcing him into the wall. Jason follows after it, and within seconds another scream is cut off, and both bodies vanish back into the shadowy recesses Jason seems to control with ease. The entire scene is surreal. Dick feels like it isn’t actually happening, except for the splatter of blood over his desk.

This is the moment that Wilkinson chooses to attack. He lunges over Dick’s desk, and Dick barely has enough time to look away from what Jason’s doing to see the bloodless face coming at him when a loud bang makes Wilkinson drop down on the desk, unmoving. Dick looks away from the body bleeding on the green baise top of his desk. From the corner of his eye he can see the blood moving on its own towards Jason, leaving the desk clean.

“My apologies, Sir Hellsing.” Pennyworth says stiffly, holstering his gun. “I shall take whatever punishment you see fit.”

“Alfre... Pennyworth.” Dick’s stilted speech stops for a moment. “You killed him. Why?” Behind Pennyworth, Jason grins on, a manic fixed look on his face. He’s thoroughly enjoying this, Dick can tell. 

“My only concern for you taking over Hellsing was your age.” Pennyworth says, his face as kind as it’s ever been to Dick. Sadness crosses his features briefly. “You’re so young to bear this burden. I wanted to spare you. However, you’ve more than proved capable.”

“My Master has a spine of steel.” Jason says, turning his gaze back to Dick with something like affection and respect. Dick wonders if vampires can even feel affection, before he turns back to Pennyworth.

“The punishment for traitors is death.” Dick says again, his heart pounding painfully behind his ribs. He doesn’t want to have Alfred Pennyworth executed, but he’s already given the order. What can he do now?

“I have executed Wilkinson as per your orders, Sir Hellsing.” Pennyworth nods. “If you wish your monster to kill me I shall go to my death with as much dignity as I am allowed to muster.”

“Well now, here’s one who might not be entirely worthless.” Jason says, the manic fixed look disappearing from his face in the blink of an eye, to be replaced with a placid, barely there, smile. Even his eyes seem calmer. The all black of his straightjacket is somehow shinier that Dick thought it was, and he seems, taller, healthier, despite how pale he is, now than he did before. It must be an effect of feeding on human blood, Dick supposes.

“I shall take that as the compliment it is, Alucard.” Pennyworth says with a nod. 

Jason grins widely. “It’s Jason now. Master gave me a new name.” Pleasure radiates off Jason like a dog who’s rolling about in the grass. Dick wouldn’t have thought a new name would make him react like that, but then again, Dick met him less than an hour ago.

“Jason. It suits you.” Pennyworth actually smiles at him, and then nods in the most military manner. “It was an honour to serve with you, sir.”

“You too, Alfred.” Jason nods back, stalking over slowly and raising his arm to plunge it through his chest.

“Wait. Stop!” Dick finds himself saying, and the both turn to look at Dick, waiting patiently. 

“Master?” Jason tilts his head at Dick, studying him intently. Dick feels _seen_ and tries his best not to squirm. “As you wish, Master.” Jason lets his arm drop and steps back.

“I don’t understand.” Pennyworth frowns, turning to Dick and paying attention only to him.

“I need loyal men, Pennyworth.” Dick says, taking a deep breath. “Pledge your loyalty to me, and I’ll keep you on.”

Pennyworth’s eyebrows rise, and he flicks a glance at Jason, who nods almost imperceptibly. Pennyworth breathes in shakily, going down on one knee to the floor. “Sir Hellsing, please accept my lifelong loyalty to yourself, the Hellsing Organisation, and the protection and safety of Great Britain.” 

“I accept your fealty, Alfred Pennyworth.” Dick nods, hands clenched into fists on his lap.

“Thank you, Sir Hellsing.” Alfred says smiling gently; his eyes drift over to the bandages on Dick’s arm. After a moment he nods to himself, clearly judging them satisfactory. “May I bring you some food? You look as though you’re about to keel over.”

“Yes, that’ll be acceptable, Alfred.” Dick nods, and Alfred bows, slipping out of the room. “Can I really trust that, Jason?”

“From Alfred? Absolutely, Master.” Jason says with no hint of hesitation.

“You don’t have to call me Master when we’re alone.” Dick says, suddenly realising that there’s no one alive to call him Dick anymore. “Call me... Sir.”

“No.” Jason says, strangely gentle. “With your permission, Master, I’ll call you Dick.” 

“Tell me how you came to work for Hellsing.” Dick says, ignoring how hearing his name squeezes his chest tight. Jason seems to take his silence about his name for the implicit permission it is.

“Maybe a better question for you is how the Control Ark Restriction System works. But I suppose I can explain that.” Jason stands as still as death. Which Dick supposes makes sense, as he is a vampire. The Undead. 

“The what?” Dick’s never heard of it. 

“It allows me to access more of my power, when I need to.” Jason shrugs, the movement making the light catch on his pure white gloves, the only part of him apart from his face that isn’t black. “There are six levels. I’m currently at Level Two. May I?”

“Go ahead.” Dick says, narrowing his eyes. Jason better not attack him, or destroy anything. Dick will have him staked.

“This is Level Five.” Jason says, and between one blink of Dick’s eyes and another, Jason’s standing in front of him in a three-piece black suit, a red frockcoat with matching red fedora and sunglasses that have metal sides to them, blocking out the light. “It allows me the least amount of power.”

Dick studies Jason. His power seems lesser somehow. It’s not gone, or even disguised, but Jason seems less still. More like a living being than a statue, at least. “You had more power at Level Three?” 

“Yes!” Jason grins, pleased at how quickly Dick’s grasped the concept. “Control Ark Restriction System: Release to Level Four.” The fedora disappears, and Dick realises that Jason’s hair is now short. No need for a haircut, then.

“So the lower the number, the more power?” Dick nods to himself. “So Level Zero is the most powerful?”

“Yes.” Jason looks uncomfortable for a moment, before he face turns blank. “Level Zero requires your permission to access.” 

“So, your clothes are linked to the release states?” Dick says, and Jason nods. Dick gets the distinct impression that if he wasn’t a vampire, Jason would be vibrating with excitement right now, like a dog energetically wagging its tail.

“Why don’t we play chess, Dick? I missed playing the game while I was sleeping in my cell.” Jason doesn’t move a muscle, but the nearby table with the chess set on it and two high backed chairs move themselves into the middle of the room. Jason sits down and gives Dick another smirk. So, apparently the vampire has telekinesis. Good to know. 

Dick takes the seat opposite Jason and rests one hand on the table. Jason seems genuinely thrilled that Dick’s taken him up on the offer to play chess. Dick was expecting some smugness, or maybe even some mocking, but Jason looks honestly pleased. He’s treating Dick like an equal, or maybe even a superior. It’s a little heady, having this powerful monster _serving_ him.

“I’ll play white.” Dick says, and Jason spins the board around so the white pieces are in front of Dick. “Thank you.” Dick moves his first pawn forward two spaces. While Jason moves his pawn, Dick takes the opportunity to study him. The vampire isn’t smiling for once, and Dick notes that his face is actually quite handsome when it’s not being pulled into a rictus grin.

Jason seems to have many different smirks, leers and grins, all different degrees of mocking or amused, but right now there’s a barely there smile that seems for once to be real. And it’s a smile that looks very private. Dick gets the feeling he won’t see it around other people much.

“Your father taught you to play chess well.” Jason says, as he takes one of Dick’s pieces.

“You’re saying that because you’ve taken one of my Rooks.” Dick mutters, turning his attention to the game. “So, how exactly does this work? You being my servant.”

“I will never lie to you. I will serve you faithfully and loyally.” Jason says, looking up to stare into Dick’s eyes, even as he takes one of Dick’s bishop and knights in one fell swoop. “I will _never_ betray you.” 

“You swore an oath to serve Hellsing. Why?” Dick turns his attention to the chess board, taking half of Jason’s pawns easily.

“Yes, I’m bound to the Hellsing family.” Jason agrees, almost too easily. He begins a complicated set of moves with his knight that decimates Dick’s pieces, leaving him with only a few left. “But I swore to serve _you_ , and only you, until you die.”

Dick realises that Jason will push the boundaries of Dick’s control every chance he gets. He’s been playing mind games with him since they met, offering to make him a vampire, hitting on him, watching and assessing his every move. It doesn’t seem like Jason will ever disobey him, but Dick’s sure that Jason will show off how dangerous he is to other people; forcing Dick to prove his control over Jason. That’s acceptable, Dick thinks. It might even work to Dick’s advantage a lot of the time. But it does mean that Dick will have to pay close attention to him. That is, if Dick doesn’t lock him back up in his cell, of course.

It doesn’t escape Dick’s attention that Jason’s dodged the question of how he came to serve Hellsing for the second time in a row. Dick won’t let him do that a third time. “And that’s different?”

“Of course.” Jason smirks, meeting Dick’s eyes. He takes Dick’s second Rook, and Dick can’t help but notice how long and strong Jason’s fingers are. How easily they plunged through Chamber’s ribcage. It leaves  
Dick with a squirmy feeling in his stomach over how dangerous the vampire is. It’s not fear, and it’s not disgust, as much as it should be. Dick can’t pin down exactly what it is he’s feeling, but it leaves his blood heating up in his veins.

The fact that Jason, with all this power and strength is more than willingly submitting and pledging himself to serve Dick is so damn _heady_. Dick realises with a start that he likes having that control over Jason. Dick’s so distracted that he’s losing, having only his king and queen left. He doesn’t even know what moves they’ve both made to get to this point in the game, but there’s no denying that he’s lost all but his two most important pieces. 

“Why me?” Dick says, willing his heart to slow down. There’s no way Jason can’t hear it. But Dick needs to know what it is about him that means he can keep this monster on a leash.

“You’ve got more steel, will, and courage in your little finger than most adult men. When you fully grow into yourself, you’ll be _magnificent_.” Jason grins widely, manic and rictus, and terrifying. Strangely enough, it makes Dick relax and calm down a little. Jason wants to serve someone strong and wilful. Jason’s powerful. Dick needs that power if he’s going to survive as the head of Hellsing as a twelve year old. 

“What do you get out of this?” Dick watches as Jason slides one long, gloved finger over his queen. Dick’s stomach squirms again, and he has to resist the urge to bite his lip. “You’ll have to hunt your own kind?”

“What better prey?” Jason says, that manic grin widening on his face even more. “Vampires are disgusting.” 

Dick narrows his eyes at Jason. He’s a vampire who thinks vampires are disgusting? That’s a conversation that Dick really wants to get into later. However, he’s not letting his earlier question go. “Why do you serve Hellsing?” 

“I do enjoy this-” Jason says, sitting back and smirking, but Dick interrupts his next attempt at deflection.

“Jason.” Dick says with a hint of warning. 

Jason stops, the smirk falling from his face as he bends his head forward, shadows hiding his already sunglasses-obscured eyes further. “I began serving your family in 1893...”

***

_1893:_

He lays there unmoving after they stab him. Sightless eyes stare up at the lightening morning sky. The triumphant party are taking Mina back to England and away from him. He’s still lying there when Professor Van Helsing makes his way over. He wants to die, but the knife wound has yet to do its job. 

“For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away. But my words will endure forever.” The professor holds a railroad spike in his hand, and slams it into his chest, forcing his body to jolt and cough up blood.

With blood dripping from his nose and mouth, he asks “Am I... Defeated?”

“That’s right, you’ve been defeated. This is no nightmare from which you’ll soon awaken. Gone is your castle and principality. Your servants are dead to the last. The host’s mark, too, leaves her precious flesh. She shall never be yours.” Van Helsing says harshly, yanking the stake out. A gush of blood follows it, and he’s too weak to move. Van Helsing grabs his lapels, hauling him from the ground, to hang there, limp and defeated. “Count... You have nothing! You pathetic No-Life King... You’ve nothing. Nothing.”

“End it.” He says, not because he expects mercy, he knows there’s none left for him; but that the determined professor doesn’t seem the type to leave things unfinished.

“You might still have a use...” Van Helsing says, frowning down at him. “With the right circumstances, ja, you might be very useful.”

“Circumstances?” He murmurs, his eyes closing to darkness before he can hear a reply.

~*~

When he next wakes, he’s bound by magic. He can feel it all around the box he’s trapped in. He gloves on his hands tingling as he presses on the lid. He’s lying flat... But entirely encased. A coffin, then. He shifts his feet, feeling loose earth around his ankles. So, the professor is transporting him. The question is to where and why.

He realises he has no care for the answers. He’s lost her. He’s lost Mina. His last chance... Gone. Fate truly is cruel to offer hope after centuries, only to snatch it away at the very last second. He’s the No-Life King of a dead and gone kingdom.

He’s lost, just like before. But this time there’s no escape from the executioner’s blade. It seems the Dutch are more prepared than the Ottomans ever were. But the motion under the box is fast... much faster than ship or by horse-led carriage. So, the professor is taking him somewhere by train. He sighs, twisting as much as the coffin allows, which is not much. The magic spelling it closed is near perfect. There’s no weak spots that he can exploit to slip out and feed. 

He resigns himself to whatever the professor has planned for him.

~*~ 

He’s lost track of how many spells the Van Helsings have placed on him. In the beginning he could recognise each and every one, but as time has gone on and the layers of magical bindings and restrictions continue; he fell asleep; or the closest thing to it; meaning he missed some being laid.

He viciously misses Mina. 

He forgets her.

He remembers again, when a new experiment begins and the blood flows to him.

He’s outside of his coffin, staring down at the lid and the legend that it bears.

_The Bird of Hermes is my name  
Eating my wings to make me tame._

The gloves on his hands respond to the chanting of the professor, his son, and their acolytes. He doesn’t recognise any but those two, but he understands the words they chant even as his body twists and transforms over and over, leaving only his hands in the gloves, adorned with _Hell’s Gate Arrested. Gott Mit Uns. And Shine Heaven Now_.

He ‘sleeps’.

He dreams of Mina, who he left his home and travelled to England for.

He wakes and finds himself changed.

Another spell is placed on him. He finds yet more changes and so much more power than he ever thought he could have.

He wakes to a grinning Professor Van Helsing, and that seven years have passed. The century has turned. The year is 1900AD and the professor has a use for him.

“We have arranged for a set of limitations onto your ungodly power.” The professor tells him, smiling almost manically. He’s still wearing the same red frockcoat he had on when he lost. “The restrictions will be loosed when appropriate. And when we are not using you? This cell will be your home. You cannot escape it. Your coffin with your homeland dirt is kept here.”

“You’ve made me more powerful. That seems like a mistake.” He says, flexing his arms as much as he can in the straightjacket they’ve left him in.

“You might think so.” Van Helsing smirks at him. The implication there is that this professor thinks he’s more intelligent and better able to strategise than a 400 year old warlord. Well, he’ll simply have to prove him wrong.

“I’m sure I do.” He says, snarling.

The professor holds up a glass bottle full of a thick dark liquid. It could, at first glance pass for wine, but even if he couldn’t smell it, he’d know it was blood. The professor lets go of the bottle, and he’s helpless to watch as it smashes on the hard, cold stone floor. It begins to spread, and he’s leaning down toward it before he can even think.

“Stop.” The professor says, entirely calmly. He stops moving, his muscles locking up even as he screams at them to move. “Ja, that is a satisfactory reaction.”

He snarls wordlessly at Van Helsing. 

“You can lick it up.” Van Helsing says, everything about his pose saying that he’s uninterested in watching him feed. “The spell is certainly working. I will tell you the words for allowing you more power once you are done here.”

He takes one long lick at the floor. It’s not hot or living blood, and his interest in it is lost. He straightens up to stand tall, realising that he towers over the human now. “I’m quite finished.”

“Gut, gut, ja.” Van Helsing mutters, looking at his watch instead. “I will now teach you the words that will make you useful to us.”

“Us?” he asks. Who else could the professor be working with?

“We are calling it the Control Ark Restriction System. My son named it.” Van Helsing says with a smirk. “You are to recite these words to increase your powers: _Releasing Control Ark Restriction System to Level Four._ ”

Something compels him to speak. “Releasing Control Ark Restriction System to Level Four.” He looks down at himself, and notices that his clothing has changed. From the black straight jacket, he’s now in a black suit and a red frockcoat, almost identical to Van Helsing’s.

“Aha! It works. The change from Level Five to Four is successful!” The professor says, sounding pleased. “Her Majesty will be pleased.”

“How many levels are there?” He asked, not expecting a response. But he tucks away the information that Queen Victoria is the financial support here. He could do a lot worse than to be the servant of the great Empress and Queen of the British Empire.

“Six in total.” Van Helsing answers, surprising him. “You will have the liberty of choosing which level you will need to destroy our enemies yourself, up to Level One.”

“And Five is the lowest.” He says to himself.

“For Level One, you must add: _Approval of Situation A recognised. Commencing the Cromwell Invocation. Ability restrictions lifted for limited use until the enemy has been rendered silent._ ” Van Helsing says, with another smirk. “Do not recite the words now. I apologise for the language, my son has no poetry in his soul.”

“And Level Zero?” he asks, resigned to servitude.

“The legend on your coffin must be said, and your master’s permission granted.” Van Helsing smirks again.

_1944_

The vampire watches on with a mocking smile as the new head of Hellsing stands at Old Professor Van Helsing’s desk; listening to the orders given over the telephone, and holding back a sigh. He’s pretty sure that Bruce Wayne had no idea what he was getting into when he married the Professor’s granddaughter, or that he could be called back from the frontlines to take over an organisation dedicated to battling the supernatural. 

At least Wayne had taken it well when he found out that the Nazis were making facsimile vampires, messing about with the kind of deep complicated magicks that could summon forth demons and unknowable beings. The fervour that he displays throwing himself into eradicating all the Nazi efforts is perhaps the most surprising part. Or not, considering he married a Hellsing. 

At least King George approves of him. Old Georgie-boy might be a naval man, but the vampire approves of him anyway. He can’t always get his words out, but he understands what it is to rule, and during a war at that. The vampire is fond of him, not that he’ll admit it to anyone.

Wayne hangs up without a word, finally sighing. “Pennyworth, Dracula. You’ll be going to Warsaw, Poland. We’ve finally identified the site of the Wehrwolves’ Vampire production plant. You are to destroy every last trace of that facility and any of the ‘science’.” Wayne says, a sneer appearing on his face at the word science. “You head out tonight.”

“Yes, sir!” Pennyworth says, straightening up as much as he can. At fourteen years old, it’s not that much.

“Yes, master.” The vampire says, a manic grin on his face. There’s little he hates more than the ‘Instant’ vampires the Nazis have been sending out. They’re nothing but excrement.

~*~

His coffin lands with a heavy thud, opening up to the sight of young Alfred Pennyworth fighting off a squad of soldiers. He takes them out with a few flicks of his fingers and his lengths of razor sharp garrotte wires. The vampire sucks up the blood that is all around, his eyes falling on the fellow monster in the room. He’s not a vampire, and he’s certainly not an ‘Instant’. He’s something the vampire thought didn’t exist anymore. A real werewolf. Pennyworth is having a lot of trouble fighting him off, to the point that the werewolf has Pennyworth on his back, and is choking him.

The vampire thinks he should probably get involved now. So he lifts his tommy gun, sending cartridge after cartridge of bullets into the werewolf. It doesn’t kill him, not that the vampire thought it would. It does however distract him for long enough that Pennyworth gets free and clear.

The werewolf turns his attention to the vampire, punching him hard enough to send him flying into the wall. If it were anyone else the vampire suspects that they’d be very dead. As it is, the vampire’s not even winded. He scrambles out of the huge crater left in the wall from the impact and smirks widely. The following fight is something that the vampire can actually call fun. The werewolf, a captain by the ranking on his uniform, is an opponent worth actually fighting. Punches connect and send each other flying, kicks do the same. The vampire actually gets to unleash his power levels to Two to continue.

It’s the best night he’s had in absolute _decades_.

And the longer he keeps the Captain busy, the more time Pennyworth has to sabotage the building by setting ‘a fuckton of bombs’ and kill any soldiers and scientists he comes across. 

The building is rocked by explosion after explosion, and the Captain’s ears prick up. The vampire doesn’t let him stop fighting though, not even when the building is crumbling around them and on fire.  
Pennyworth runs in to the ruined room, stopping dead in his tracks, his young eyes wide in horror at seeing them fight. The Captain turns and runs, and it’s only Pennyworth’s quietly stated “Sir Wayne ordered us to return alive” that stops the vampire from going after him.

“The experiments?” the vampire asks, snarling in frustration. He wants to keep fighting the werewolf, but orders are absolute and must be followed.

“All burning.” Pennyworth says, keeping very still. The vampire can hear his heart beat rabbit fast in his chest. “All the paperwork I could find too. I killed as many scientists as I could, but I think some got away. I saw at least two cars driving away. Too far for my wires to reach, or I’d have tried stopping them.”

“These Nazis are slippery bastards.” The vampire says, and Pennyworth’s heart slows down, just a little. “But they haven’t all left. We’ve time to kill more.”

“After you, Count Dracula.” Pennyworth says, looking eager. “Or should that be my lord? Titles are confusing.”

“I’m Hellsing’s pet monster, boy.” The vampire shrugs. He hasn’t felt like Count Dracula since Professor Van Helsing staked him over fifty years ago. He’s not even sure who he is now. “Call me whatever you want.”

“Oh.” Pennyworth wraps his wires around his fists, ready for the second round. “In that case, after you... Sir Monster.”

The vampire sweeps past him, out into the corridor which seems stable enough. Pennyworth is right on his heels. They make it to the ground floor where the last of the scientists are screaming about their data and experiments. Pennyworth makes short work of them, all except one who gets close enough that Pennyworth actually has to punch him before he uses his garrotte wires to end the man. The vampire notes with approval that Pennyworth doesn’t seem too put out by that.

But then he hears the rumble of the movement of many. If it wasn’t for the lack of heartbeats or living blood, the vampire would say it was an entire squadron. 

“Pennyworth.” The vampire calls out. “Get behind me.”

“I can take out ‘Instants’, Sir Monster.” Pennyworth frowns, whipping his wires around.

“I’m aware. But what’s coming isn’t ‘Instants’.” The vampire says, readying his tommy gun once more. “It’s Ghouls.”

“Ghouls?” Pennyworth sighs, moving slowly behind the vampire, making sure to stand clear of the way his red frockcoat is snapping in the wind. “This was not a two-man job. Even if you are worth twenty men, sir.”

“Aren’t you having fun, boy?” the vampire laughs, holding his gun out ready for the squadron of Ghouls to come around the corner of the building.

“Sending monsters to do their fighting for them. So much for a ‘noble’ war.” Pennyworth huffs, clearly not impressed with their enemies. “Does fun even come into it?”

“Of course!” the vampire says as the Ghouls round the corner, and he takes them all out with wave after wave of bullets to the head. “What’s the point of fighting if it’s not a little fun?”

“Saving people? Defending them and their homes.” Pennyworth says with the surety of the young. “Stopping... Monsters.” 

“I’ll tell you a secret about stopping monsters, my young friend.” The vampire says when all the Ghouls are finally taken out. “Only a human can do it. Never forget that.”

“I won’t. Sir.” Pennyworth says, exhaling slowly, looking at the carnage around them. “I hope we got enough of them to make this count.”

“There’ll always be more.” The vampire says, reflecting on all his years. “More enemies, another war. More death than you can shake a stick at, or so you humans say these days.”

“Well, that’s deeply depressing.” Pennyworth frowns. “And possibly fixed by a nice cup of tea.”

 _1975, and onwards:_

The vampire isn’t sure what to make of John Grayson. He seems competent, and Sir Wayne clearly approves of him enough to let him marry his daughter. He’s got some drive, the vampire supposes. Nothing like the fervour of Sir Wayne, or the Van Helsings, of course, but enough that he’ll do for ‘peacetime’. The vampire’s not all that fond of the name that Sir Grayson has labelled him with, Alucard is a bit on the nose, really. The vampire supposes that it’s a step up from ‘hey you’ or ‘vampire’. Barely.

Not that anyone will be calling him that for a while. ‘Alucard’ is going to be settling in for a long sleep. He looks around his cell, bare of anything beyond sigils both painted onto and carved into the walls surrounding him. The door to the cell swung shut heavily, with a loud clang about an hour ago. ‘Alucard’ knows it won’t be opened unless there’s an absolute emergency.

It’s his punishment for killing an entire squadron of Hellsing soldiers. 

Sir Grayson labelled him too dangerous to use, which really is laughable. He’s no more powerful or dangerous than he was in the 1940’s or even earlier. But here he is, bound up in magic and leather, to be left to starve to the point of desiccation. Sir Grayson probably thinks it’ll be painful for him, but ‘Alucard’ moved beyond pain being something to be avoided, and into it being a reminder he still exists centuries ago.  
‘Alucard’ doesn’t care. It was worth it.

Those ‘loyal Hellsing soldiers’ weren’t even fit to be called dogs. They weren’t even fit to be dogshit, with what they were planning. ‘Alucard’ could have easily stepped aside and let them do as they pleased. It’s not as if ‘Alucard’ isn’t a monster who did terrible things because he wanted to, or because he felt that the end justified the means. He is and he did, so many times over that he can’t even remember them all. He left battlefields drenched in blood and sought war at every opportunity. He could even go so far as to say that he _enjoyed_ it, fairly often.

But what the soldiers had been planning wasn’t war. It wasn’t against the enemies of Hellsing and Great Britain. ‘Alucard’ did those pieces of shit a favour. Because now they’ll be remembered as good men who died bravely trying to stop a monster. Not as monsters themselves. It’s more than they deserve, but ‘Alucard’ won’t let them taint the reputation of the Organisation he serves. He’s worked too hard and long to let fools who couldn’t see beyond the ends of their noses bring down Hellsing.

He doesn’t even care that he won’t get a thank you; or exoneration from his master. A rest from the world will do it their place.

~*~

The years pass by both slowly and in the blink of an eye. Down in the darkness of his cell, ‘Alucard’ has nothing to do but think and ponder what he wants in the years ahead.

A good, strong master, for sure. Someone willing to go as far as necessary when the situation needs it. Someone who won’t quake in fright when ‘Alucard’ looks them in the eyes.

A chance to seek the fight that might finally end his long, unending years without hope or love with true death.

He can feel himself changing, the bonds and layers of spells on him altering his personality oh-so-subtly. It feels like he’s simply waiting for his fate.

~*~

‘Alucard’ hears the boy approach, even though he barely has the strength to move. The boy enters, his heart racing, and then the bullet grazes his upper arm, knocking him from his feet into the dark cell. The blood splatters onto the ground. The man’s screaming, but ‘Alucard’ doesn’t care. He can smell the fury wafting from the boy. 

“ _You don’t want to die now?_ ” ‘Alucard’ says to the boy. It takes all the energy he has, but he leans over, right over until his face is by the floor and he starts lapping at the blood splatter.  
Moving suddenly, he attacks one of Richard’s flunkies, ripping his head off, lifting it up above his mouth to drink all the blood that seeps out.

“A vampire?” The boy whispers in shock. “This is the result “achieved”? What was my family studying?” Richard’s other flunky goes down just as easily, his headless corpse landing on the ground with a soft thud.

‘Alucard’ rips Richard’s arm off, blood flying everywhere, and Richard falls to the floor, screaming and moaning, slipping in the blood surrounding him. The boy grabs Richard’s gun, aiming it straight at ‘Alucard’. “You’re the one that awakened me?” he smirks down at the boy, he feels better than he has in decades, revitalised.

“Don’t come any closer, monster!” The boy yells, his hands steady on the gun. 

“Your blood made the finest wake-up drink after twenty years of sleeping.” He smirks. The boy shoots him three times, each bullet hitting, but he heals instantly. He moves swiftly, pushing the boy up against the wall of the cell, and smirking into his face. “If you obey me, all these powers become yours.” He offers, truly meaning to change the boy into a true vampire if he chooses it.

“You devil.” The boy snaps, nearly shaking with righteous fury. “I’m Richard Wayne Grayson Hellsing, the head of the Hellsing Organisation! I’ll never let a vampire tell me what to do!”

“It’s no use using a gun on me.” He says, deciding to ignore the boy’s outburst. He tries to be reasonable. “Kid, give up and listen to me.”

“Shut the hell up! I won’t give up. I’ll _never_ give up, even if I die.” Richard the younger yells, standing up a little straighter. “That’s my pride as the head of Hellsing!”

“Wonderful! It’s really wonderful!” He leers, pushing his face closer to Richard’s, feeling so hungry for blood... And more. “There’s a rage swelling between my legs.”

The boy’s face reads nothing but shock, and with one shaking hand, he lets go of the gun to slap the vampire’s face as hard as he can. ‘Alucard’ is even more impressed by this. What a fighter this one is! “I’m twelve!”

“Ah, so you are...” He vampire says, blinking. The fog of joy has lifted a little and he can see just how young the boy really is. “No wonder, you’re the son of that family.” In less than a heartbeat he’s kneeling down so far that he’s practically sitting on the floor “Please forgive all my impoliteness, Sir Hellsing. Give me an order, my master.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! A brat and a monster?” Richard snarls, pushing himself up from the floor awkwardly and slowly with only one arm. He’s so angry he’s frothing at the mouth, and gesturing wildly with his remaining arm. “Hellsing is mine!” 

“Your blood really stinks, Richard.” ‘Alucard’ says, full of disdain and disgust for Richard the elder. He looks at him over his shoulder before turning back to Richard the younger, dismissing him entirely. “You’re not qualified to be the master of this place.” 

Richard shoots at the boy, but his arm takes the bullet. The boy rests the gun on the vampire’s arm, taking aim and squeezing the trigger, sending three bullets into his Uncle Richard’s head. ‘Alucard’ grins on, deeply approving of his new master. He’s finally found the one he’s been waiting for.

***

Dick pushes away from the table, he hadn’t moved any of his pieces once during Jason’s story, and neither had Jason. He stands up, feeling out of sorts, almost overwhelmed by everything he’s been told, even though on the scale of what he’s lived through in the last week, it’s not surprising or unexpected.

Trying to gather his thoughts, Dick heads over to stare out of the window, looking out at the grounds of the manor. It’s dark so all that’s really visible beyond the gravel by the house is receding lawns melding into the tree line. The near-endless feeling rolling acres of land beyond are completely hidden by the gloom of night. 

Dick doesn’t move as Jason follows him over and stands right behind him, looming with his greater height. “You trust me already.” Jason says, and there’s wonder as well as the hint of amusement.  
“Do I?” Dick says, continuing to stare out. Dick supposes Jason’s not exactly wrong. 

“Yes, my Master.” Jason says, bending down to speak softly into Dick’s ear. “I’m a vampire, and you turned your back to me. Anyone else would be feeling vulnerable right now.”

“You’re playing with me.” Dick says, not turning around. He’s not going to let Jason rattle him into moving. He’s still playing mind games with Dick, after all; no matter how much he says he respects him. He’s pushing at those boundaries that they haven’t even set up yet. Jason wants a strong, proud master. Dick’s going to show him that he’s underestimating him already. 

“The game isn’t over yet.” Jason says, still into Dick’s ear. “You have two pieces left. You can still win. If you’re clever, brave, refuse to give up, and are willing to risk it all. Master.”

“I don’t mean the chess match.” Dick says, not moving. “You’ve been playing with me since you first spoke to me.”

“I’ve been told it’s only polite to thank someone for a delicious drink.” Jason says, and Dick can _hear_ the grin.

“You asked me if I didn’t want to die now.” Dick says, frowning at the window pane in front of him. He feels the rush of cool air as Jason steps back, and Dick decides that turning around now isn’t a loss. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did. Master.” Jason kneels down, one knee right on the floor, lowering himself until he’s sitting on his heel. He takes Dick’s hand gently, slowly... It’s not hesitant, but he’s giving Dick all the time he could possibly need to pull his hand away if he wants to. Dick lets Jason lift his hand up to his mouth, Jason’s gloved hand is cold under his, and there’s no breath, cool or otherwise, to be felt on the back of his hand. Jason brings Dick’s hand closer to his mouth, barely brushing his lips over his knuckles in a kiss, full of reverence and worship. “And you chose to answer exactly how I wished you to.” 

“Because I wanted to live?” Dick lifts his now free hand from where it rests in Jason’s and moves it up to Jason’s face, touching with only his fingertips the area where he’d used all his strength to slap him. There’s not so much as even the hint of a mark, Jason’s skin is smooth, clear, and oh-so pale. It’s also noticeably cooler than his gloved hands. 

“Yes! The will of humans to continue fighting to live against all the odds is what makes you so magnificent!” Jason shudders slightly. “Those who refuse to give up are worthy of respect.”

Dick rests his hand on Jason’s face, feeling that squirming feeling return, heating his blood as it pumps around his body. The fact a 560 year old monster of immense power is willingly kneeling at his feet, gazing up at him with respect and devotion is just as heady as it was before. Maybe even more so. It’s ...Intimate in a way Dick’s never even thought he might want.

“And I refused.” Dick nods, that tracks, Jason had had a distinct change of manner once Dick had told him he wouldn’t give up. Jason leans into the touch, looking up at him adoringly. Dick wants to be reminded of a dog, because that unblinking gaze is fixed and pure, but there’s a heat beginning to bloom in Jason’s eyes that’s anything but pure. It makes his blood sing, that respect mixed with hunger (not that Dick’s sure what Jason’s hungry for. Is it blood? Is it something else... Something sexual that Dick’s too young for?)

“Master... You truly are your family’s child. You have their strength and will.” Jason continues to stare up at Dick, and Dick feels so warm. It’s like the flames of hell are licking up the sides of the room, and he wouldn’t care, because Jason is there to protect him. Because Jason is _his_. Jason’s his, however Dick wants him. His servant. His monster. _His_.

Dick looks down on that intense amount of emotion in Jason’s eyes, it’s so much. Almost too much. It’s like the strength and abilities that Jason has, almost too much. It’s so much to control it all. But Jason’s offering it, and himself, up to Dick with no hesitation. To be Dick’s. 

Dick’s father had always impressed on him how important it was to look after what belonged to him. Jason is no different. If he’s Dick’s now, then Dick has to look after him well. To return that intense devotion with trust and... Friendship? No, that doesn’t feel quite right. Affection, maybe? If Jason is Dick’s pet monster on a leash, then he should give him the affection that those eyes seem to be crying out for.

But how? Dick’s only twelve. He’s got no idea how to handle this. He wonders what his mother would have done, but she died before he was really old enough to remember her. And his father... It hurts to think about him. But his father would always kiss him on the forehead at night. So Dick leans down slowly, although honestly, he doesn’t really have that far down to go. He presses dry, nervous lips to the cool skin of Jason’s forehead. He doesn’t linger, being as gentle as possible.

When Dick pulls back, he can see Jason’s eyes are beginning to well up with tears of blood. Jason stares up at him, eyes wide in surprise. He closes his eyes, as if the gentle benediction of Dick’s kiss had been painful. When Jason opens his eyes, the tears are gone, but something warm and tender is in that gaze that hadn’t been there before. 

It feels like something important and wordlessly intense has passed between them.

“Count...” Dick says quietly, but full of meaning.

“Master.” Jason returns; that look in his eyes is one of quiet adoration and devotion, and Dick could almost fall into that gaze.

A knock on the door brings Dick out of the moment. In a flash, Jason is over by the table, physically carrying it back to where it was before, tucked into the corner of the room. “Come in.” Dick says, swallowing down a strange sense of disappointment at being interrupted.

The door opens and a large tray enters, with Alfred not even a second behind it. He carries the tray right over to Dick’s father’s desk... His desk, now. Alfred carries the tray over to Dick’s desk, setting it down. It’s covered with a plate of various sandwiches, small cakes and biscuits, and a large pot of tea. “I thought sandwiches would be the easiest thing to eat right now, Sir. I believe I have all your favourites.”

“Yes. Thank you, Alfred. That’ll be fine.” Dick says, feeling suddenly ravenous as he stares at the tray. Jason’s moved the high backed chairs into place while Dick’s been staring at the food.

“Please don’t wait on me to begin, Sir.” Alfred says, dipping his head forward. “I’m sure you’re quite hungry after your ordeal.”

Dick says nothing, going to sit at _his desk_ and shoving his face full of a cheddar cheese and cucumber sandwich. He swallows it down, and forces himself not to make a face at the cucumber. He’s never liked it. He’ll tell Alfred not to use cucumber from now on tomorrow.

He roughly swallows, looking up to see a glint of amusement on Jason’s face. He stands silent and still against the wall of the room, seemingly content to stand guard; which reminds Dick of something he’d meant to ask much earlier. “Alfred, where is Timothy? Why wasn’t he here to help?”

“He should return by tomorrow morning, Sir Richard.” Alfred says, without missing a beat. “He telephoned yesterday morning. Apparently his mission ran overlong.”

“I see.” Dick says, picking up another sandwich, and trying not to frown. “Let me know when he returns.”

“Of course, Sir.” Alfred says with a sharp military nod. “Will that be all, Sir?”

Dick chews, and swallows his bite of sandwich. “For now. Thank you, Alfred.”

Alfred leaves quietly, shutting the door behind him with a click. Jason moves from his position on the wall to the chair the other side of Dick’s desk. He sits down and there’s a long pause when all that can be heard is Dick chewing. 

Eventually Jason speaks. “It’s interesting that this attack waited to happen until Timothy was away.”

“What do you mean?” Dick frowns. It’s horrible that Timothy wasn’t here. Dick could have used his support.

“It’s interesting that your enemies knew exactly when and where your greatest supporter was when they launched this assault.” Jason shrugs. “It’s something to think about. Your enemies know Hellsing well.”

“Comforting, Jason. Thank you.” Dick sighs. “I have an order for you.”

Jason sits up straight in his chair, looking almost giddy. “As you command, my Master.”

Dick breathes deeply, and forces his back ramrod straight, before he speaks. “Protect me from all harm.”


	2. Chapter 2

_Age Fourteen:_

Dick opens his eyes, looking around the big comfortable bed he’s lying on. _It can’t be his own bed, it’s far too comfortable. So soft and cloudlike, it’s a dream. Ah, this is a dream..._ He starfishes out for a moment, but even then his gangly limbs can’t reach any of the edges. 

Jason’s head emerges from the bed, in between Dick’s legs, and he crawls up Dick’s body, leaning over him so close and caging Dick to the bed. Jason’s long tongue slips out of his mouth and licks a path up Dick’s neck. Dick finds that he’s both angry at Jason taking liberties, and oddly turned on by the tongue licking him. Dick grabs onto Jason’s wrist, tightly. Partly to anchor himself in the moment, but also as a warning to Jason not to push Dick too far. Even like this, Dick is still in control.

Jason’s talking but Dick can’t make out the words. He tries to concentrate but all he hears are things that Jason has said to him before in completely different contexts. They’re nose to nose now, and Dick stares into that intense gaze that completely fills his vision. He could get lost in those eyes, let go and give in entirely, but that’s not who he is. Something changes and Jason blinks, once. And then he’s leaning up to press a tender, gentle kiss to Dick’s forehead. When he leans back down, there’s still the intense look, but it’s tempered by heat and ...Affection. _Even in his dreams, Dick can’t call it love. Not yet, at least._

Dick turns his face away from that intense gaze, he’s not someone who ever begs – he’ll never be that – but a soft and breathy “Do it’ falls from his lips. Not that he knows what he’s really giving Jason permission to do; bite him? Something else? Jason presses in closer, his body fully pressing against Dick’s; shoving his legs wider open around Jason’s waist. But it’s not teeth in his neck he feels pressing into him. No, it’s Jason’s cock pressing into his hole. Long and thick, it’s filling Dick up more than he thought he could ever take, but it doesn’t hurt at all. In fact, it feels mind-blowingly good. 

Jason smirks down at him when Dick opens his eyes _when had he closed them?_ and stares up at him. Jason pulls back and thrusts in and Dick can’t stop the pleased moan from coming out. It feels so good, and Dick loves it, loves being fucked. He rests his free hand on the small of Jason’s back, feeling the movement of Jason’s body as it pushes into him.

“My Master...” Jason says worshipfully. “My Countess, my wife, my love... The magnificent babies we could have made.”

Dick hates hearing those words, but as much as he hates them, he also hates how much they’re making him hotter and desperate for the hard, rough thrusts Jason’s giving him. When he repeats the words, Dick realises that when Jason calls him master, he’s really saying all of those things at once. Master, Countess... Love. Dick can’t stop himself from leaning up for a kiss, letting his tongue stroke Jason’s.

The world tilts as Dick wraps his arm around Jason’s shoulder and then Dick’s sitting in Jason’s lap in his chair in his cell. Dick’s riding him as hard as he can, slamming himself down on that huge hard cock; hitting that one spot inside that makes his toes curl and his cock leak. 

Jason’s hands are on his hips; Dick’s doing all the work while Jason stares down at him. Dick leans back until only one hand is clutching at Jason’s shoulder, giving him the perfect angle to get himself off at. “My Count...” Dick whispers as the world turns white and electric hot and all Dick can feel through the ecstasy is Jason’s hands on his hips holding him firmly and Jason so big inside him. He’s coming harder than he ever has in his life. Lost in the white, all Dick can see is Jason’s eyes watching him, and his hands touching him.

The beep-beep-beep of Dick’s alarm wakes him from his dream. He slaps at the button to switch it off irritably; he’s in a bad mood, pissed off at the mess in his shorts, and the fact that he’d dreamed about Jason at all.

Throughout the day he snaps as Jason constantly, who takes Dick’s bad temper with amusement. It further annoys Dick, who can barely look at the vampire without several slivers of guilt and lust rearing their heads. Dick shuts himself into his office, doing his endless paperwork as a means of distracting himself. He barely notices when he eats, or when it gets dark.

“Master, it’s time for bed.” Jason says quietly, right next to him.

Dick huffs, annoyed at his blurring eyes, and at Jason. “I’m not a child, Jason. I’ll go to bed when I’m done.”

“It’s Three AM, Master. Even Alfred and _Timothy_ have gone to sleep.” Dick notes that the slight edge that enters Jason’s tone whenever he mentions Timothy is still there. Jason leans down; picking Dick up in his arms easily and carrying him from the office while Dick tries to protest. “Your paperwork will still be there later.”

“Put me down!” Dick beats his fists half-heartedly at Jason’s shoulders. He _is_ almost too tired to see straight, but this is too embarrassing!

“You have a sword fighting lesson at Eight AM. You know how hard that teacher works you.” Jason says, ignoring Dick’s fists. “You’re only human, you need rest.”

“I can walk!” Dick glares, ignoring how fast Jason’s taking them up the stairs and to the more heavily fortified wing where Dick’s bedroom is.

“I’m aware, Dick.” Jason says with a grin. “But this way is much quicker.”

Dick doesn’t have time to reply before Jason sets him down gently on the bed, kneeling down to remove his shoes. “I don’t need tucking in.” Dick says, regaining some authority in his voice.

“In that case.” Jason steps back, beginning to disappear through the floor. “Goodnight... Countess.”

Oh, no. Jason saw his dream. Dick wants to die; he wants to punch Jason in his stupidly handsome face. Instead, Dick does the only thing he can that won’t bring his soldiers running to check on him. He flops over on the bed, burying his face into a pillow and screams out his frustration and embarrassment at Jason seeing his dream; forcefully ignoring the aching hardness between his legs.

***

Timothy is reading out his monthly report, and Dick’s doing his best not to zone out. Tim’s not exactly making it easy for him, reading out the dry statistics in the most monotone voice he can manage. Occasionally Jason will make a soft snort at some number or other that Tim’s calculated, in the way that Dick knows means he disagrees with either Tim’s assessment, or the fact he’s being assessed; and in all likelihood the fact that Jason seems to have taken a disliking to Tim for absolutely no reason that Dick can understand. 

Jason won’t give a straight answer when asked either, which drives Dick mad. ‘Allowing Jason A Little Mystery’ is not a good enough response for the head of Hellsing. But then again, Dick’s got bigger things to worry about than his two top agents not being the best of friends. With Alfred officially taking over all buttling duties, (Dick still can’t believe that’s the official term...) Timothy has been freed up to be a full time field agent and second-in-command to Dick. 

They should be a dream team, Dick thinks, but there’s been a surprising amount of pushback from the other members of the Round Table. Not against Dick himself, not with Jason under his thumb, but the fact that he chose someone else so young to be his Second. Dick argued down the few raised eyebrows, even going so far as to force Jason to give his view of Timothy’s fighting abilities. Jason had grudgingly given Tim a glowing review. 

It’s annoying, Dick thinks, that because they’re both young, the people who should know better underestimate them. When Dick’s expressed that view in front of Jason and Alfred they’ve both been non-committal in their replies. It makes Dick think that there’s something else going on that he hasn’t noticed. It’s an added frustration that Dick shouldn’t have to deal with. Because for the life of him he can’t think of any other reason than relative lack of age that anyone could have against Tim.

Dick’s so convinced of Tim’s rightness to be his Second that he misses a few vital clues, which with hindsight, he really should have picked up. The first was given the night that Dick freed Jason. The second one is the whispers in the cafeteria, the gossip of a one-sided feud between Tim and Jason. Dick knows it’s one-sided. Jason is very honest about how little he thinks of Tim when Dick finally asks him in private. But he says it in his usual casually dismissive way that leads Dick to miss clue number three. 

In the end, instead of any great detective work on Dick’s part (to his eternal embarrassment) he stumbles upon the answer entirely accidentally. He doesn’t know what stops him from walking around the corner when he hears Tim’s voice, but he pauses and listens.

“It’s disgusting. I can’t understand why Sir Hellsing allows that monster to continue to live.” Tim says, and Dick can hear the anger in it. “The Hellsing Organisation is dedicated to eradicating vampires, not turning one into a pet.”

Dick inhales sharply. He’d thought Tim understood; the way nearly everyone else in the organisation seems to, that Jason is their trump card. Their powerhouse; their secret weapon; the one thing that Hellsing can bring to the table that literally no-one else could ever do. He’s what allows Dick, a fourteen year old boy, to be in charge and keep Hellsing running the way it does, with near unlimited resources and authority. Jason allows Hellsing to do its damn job.

“With all due respect, sir.” An unfamiliar, but firm and no-nonsense voice of a middle-aged welsh woman says, cutting off Tim’s comments. “Jason might be a monster, but he’s _our_ monster. He’s a fucking nuke of a vampire killing machine, and I for one, am grateful Sir Hellsing has him around.”

“Evans, I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Tim sounds angry and dismissive. It’s a side of him that Dick’s never seen. He’s always been so loyal, respectful and helpful to Dick. It’s so strange to see him like this, but to rise through the ranks, of course Tim has to have a darker side. You need to be willing to kill to join Hellsing after all.

“No, but you’re getting it anyway, _sir_.” Evans says, turning the title almost into an insult. “Maybe you should think about how your comments affect Sir Hellsing before you go spewing that bollocks in public.”

Dick turns on his heel, marching back to his office to think over what he’s seen. Alfred and Jason’s feelings about Tim make so much more sense now. The fact they didn’t tell him about Tim’s vehement reaction is puzzling though. Did they think that Dick would throw a tantrum or accuse them of lying?

“I knew you and Timothy don’t get on, but this?” Dick says when he finds a free five minutes to talk to Jason. “You should have told me.”

“I didn’t see the point, Master.” Jason says, barely shrugging. “I’m a vampire. Hellsing kills vampires. Timothy’s a member of Hellsing, it follows that he hates me. It’s not that uncommon a feeling. Although _most_ people are sensible enough to keep their opinions to themselves.”

~*~

Dick walks along the corridor, taking the short gap between lessons and paperwork to stretch his legs. (Why is there so much paperwork? Dick doesn’t mind the accounts, but all the other documents? Just _why_?) He glances out of the window, surprised to see Alfred standing outside in the chilly autumn morning air in no more than a shirt and a waistcoat. Timothy is out there with him in a slightly more sensible shirt and jacket combination.

Alfred brings out his wires, making them ripple in the air and sending them past Tim with skill that’s breathtaking. Dick inhales, wondering for a moment if they’re actually about to fight in full view of everyone.  
“No need to be alarmed, Master.” Jason says, emerging from the wall behind Dick to stare unblinking out the window over Dick’s shoulder. Dick glances up at him, but from that angle, his eyes are shaded and hidden behind his thick dark glasses. “Alfred agreed to train Timothy to use the razor wires. I think he’s worried that at his age he can’t protect you properly with them anymore.”

“Oh. I see.” Dick looks back out of the window, one hand reaching up to touch his hair. It’s getting a little long, he needs a haircut. “I always forget how old Alfred is. He’s so energetic and busy. You don’t look at him and think he’s over sixty!”

“You should take a closer look, Master.” Jason says, with that fixed rictus grin. “Alfred’s style of fighting is wonderful.”

“I don’t have the time.” Dick says with a sigh. “I’d like to though.”

“Should I kidnap you? Take you closer to watch as a bonding moment with your soldiers?” Jason smirks, that fixed grin getting wider and wider.

“...Yes.” Dick bites his lip. “But if anyone complains I’m blaming you.”

“You’re the Head of Hellsing. You can do as you please.” Jason shrugs, stepping back and wandering along the corridor to open the door to the courtyard with a bow. “After you, Sir Hellsing.”

The brisk walk over to the training ground in the courtyard takes barely a minute, but Dick’s already cold. Alfred’s only in his shirtsleeves and Dick has no idea how he’s not freezing. Jason stands next to him as he stands on the sidelines watching as Alfred expertly manipulates the wires to do what he wants them to. It’s physics-defying how he can get them to do so much with barely a twitch of his fingers. Alfred wraps Tim up almost like a mummy in the wires, so tightly that he can’t move, and only in one spot does any part of the wire cut into the skin on the back of Tim’s hand.

Alfred drops the wires without a word, pulling out a set of plasters and offering one to Tim to stick on his hand. “My apologies, Timothy. My control isn’t what it used to be.”

“He was glorious when he was younger.” Jason says quietly, just for Dick’s ears. “He could take out entire squadrons of Instants, and more than his fair share of Ghouls. And Nazis of course. They used to call him the Angel of Death.”

“You’ll show me how to do that?” Tim says to Alfred, ignoring Jason entirely, but he gives Dick a fully respectful nod when he realises they’re watching.

“Of course.” Alfred nods, removing the controller ends of his wires from his fingers and showing Tim how to put them on. “Don’t be too bothered if you can’t get them to move consistently at first. These take a lot of skill, nearly all borne from practice.”

“So, just get them moving at first, worry about getting to move _where_ I want after that?” Timothy says, flicking his fingers. There’s a ripple of movement down the wires, but they stay in place after it.

“Very good, now trying flicking them upward.” Alfred says, reaching out to adjust how Timothy’s holding his hands out. “How does it look from over there, Sir Hellsing?”

“Pretty good?” Dick says, tilting his head as Tim moves his fingers almost gently and the wires flick up several feet in the ground. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it in no time, Tim.”

Standing next to him, Jason is suspiciously silent. His head is tucked down, face nearly completely covered by the wide brim of his hat. While Tim is distracted by Alfred showing him more technique, Dick looks at him, about to ask him what he thinks when Jason’ voice echoes in his mind. _It’s nothing, Master. Just a memory I’d rather forget._

“Yes! I did it!” Tim shouts victoriously, as he manages to get the wires to move off the floor, flicking around wildly with at least three foot of clear air between them and the ground.

_Age Seventeen:_

It’s taken five years to get here, and honestly, Dick’s only surprised he managed to hold out this long. But he can’t deny that being wrapped up in Jason’s arms as he’s kissed is probably the best he’s felt in his life. The fact that Jason can lift him up and carry him effortlessly is pretty nice too. Jason’s kisses might be cool, but the burning heat in his eyes more than makes up for any temperature differences in their lips. Dick’s are starting to warm Jason’s up anyway.

“Bed!” Dick gasps out, turning away to catch his breath and let Jason press gentle kisses up and down his neck. It makes Dick shudder in his grasp. 

Dick’s head hits the pillow and Jason hovers scant inches above him. “How do you want me Master?” Jason says, that soft private smile that only Dick ever gets to see on his face.

“Just like this.” Dick says, staring right into Jason’s eyes. “No... Wait. Flip us over. I want to look down at you.”

“As you wish, Master.” Jason says, and with a whirl he’s underneath Dick, spread out on his bed. He’s at Level Three and so fully clothed, while Dick is wearing nothing at all and the imbalance of that is annoying and need to be rectified right now.

Dick leans over to his bedside table and picks up his discarded cravat. “Hands up.” Dick begins tying Jason’s hands to be headboard while Jason watches with an amused smile on his face.

“You realise that’ll do nothing?” Jason’s clearly trying not to laugh. “I’m enjoying the joke, but you’ll need something stronger.”

“Keep them there.” Dick says, crossing his arms while he sits on Jason’s lap. “Because I told you to.”

“Yes, Master.” Jason leans back into the pillows staring up at Dick, still amused but not even trying to tug at the knotted cravat.

Dick bites his lip and stares at Jason’s clothes. The frockcoat has fallen open, showing off his black suit jacket. Dick slides his hands up Jason’s torso, undoing the jacket (and if he’s a little bit surprised it actually unbuttoned? He’s not going to tell anyone) and the waistcoat under it. He pushes his hands up higher to Jason’s throat; Jason leans his head back, giving Dick more room to work, eyes glowing with satisfaction. Dick undoes his cravat and starts on his shirt buttons, yanking it wide open to show off the pale skin underneath. It’s cool, just like Jason’s face, and his muscles are hard, a total contrast to what Dick knows is his true physical state. 

Dick runs his fingers down the smooth skin until he reaches Jason’s waistband. A few careful flicks of his fingers and Jason’s flies fall open, leaving him totally exposed. It’s a decent size, Dick muses, on a par with a few of his bigger toys, even though it’s not hard yet. He looks up at Jason’s face, his expression not giving anything away with that faint smirk hiding any real reactions.

“It’ll do.” Dick says, putting on his most imperious tone. He leans forward kissing Jason’s stomach, working his way up his chest.

“I think this is the point where a responsible adult would say your first time should be with someone you love.” Jason says, a tenseness in his body that makes Dick think that if Jason had less self-control he’d be bucking up into Dick’s kisses by now. “I’m not a responsible adult, Dick.”

Dick moves his hands up to cup both sides of Jason’s face. “But I am having my first time with someone I love.” Dick leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Jason’s mouth, seeing how Jason’s eyes widen in shock and maybe even panic for a split second before their lips meet. When Dick pulls back, there’s nothing but pride, affection, and heat in Jason’s gaze. 

“Master...” Jason says quietly. Dick reaches out to the bedside table, scrabbling about in the drawer for his lube.

“I want this. I’m going to have this.” Dick says firmly, watching as a true smile spreads over Jason’s face. Dick makes quick work of slicking Jason’s cock up, and to his relief Jason hardens with every stroke, before he reaches behind himself to finger himself open.

Jason’s cock is cool on his hole, a lot like his toys are, although those tend to warm up after a while, and Jason doesn’t. It’s a strange experience sinking down on something so chill while it spreads him open and reaches deep inside him. It might be odd, but it still makes Dick’s toes curl as his skin finally touches Jason’s hips. He’s held open so deeply by Jason, and it’s a little overwhelming. Part of him wants to _revel_ in the sensation, to let Jason pleasure him while he enjoys it. But a bigger part won’t let him do that. Dick bites his lip and rests his hands on Jason’s stomach, rocking slowly as he adjusts to Jason’s girth.

He speeds up as he continues to ride; feeling so full as each thrust of his hips makes the tip of Jason’s cock skate over his prostate. Dick can’t help the breathy noises that Jason’s cock punches out of him; or the unholy fire in Jason’s eyes as they maintain eye contact while the rolling motion of Dick’s hips makes his cock leak onto Jason’s stomach.

“You’re mine, Jason.” Dick gasps out as he particularly rough thrust causes Jason’s cock to slam into that sweet spot.

“Yours, Master.” Jason says, actually sounding a little breathless for once. “I’m yours, Countess. Use me as you wish.”

Dick shakes the hair out of his eyes as pleasure licks up his spine. He’s getting close, but he knows if he moves his hands from Jason he’ll lose the perfect rhythm he’s built up. “Jason...”

“Yes, Master?” Jason’s hands, which had been hanging limply from the headboard are now clenched into fists, and it makes Dick smirk to know he’s not the only one straining for climax. “Tell me what you want.” 

“More.” Dick lets slip. Not that he’s really sure what ‘more’ means right now, but he needs _something_ to help tip him over the edge.

“Then ‘more’ you’ll get, Countess.” Jason grins, and Dick’s eyes widen as the cock inside him gets bigger, longer and... _More_. His perfect rhythm slows down, going jagged, as he deals with the increased stretch, and how fucking much he _loves_ it.

Jason’s shadow hands appear from the inside of his frockcoat, starting to stroke Dick’s body. One pair steady his hips, another pair slide up his chest, fingertips playing with his nipples in a way that Dick had no idea could feel good before this. One cool hand wraps around his heated, leaking cock, finally giving him some much needed, and soothing, stimulation. 

“Jason!” Dick moans as every cool sensation feels too good on his overheated body. He clenches down on Jason’s cock as he comes, splattering Jason’s abs with the evidence of how much he loved being fucked.

Jason sits up, his arms melting through the cravat knotted to the headboard, wrapping his arms around Dick as he slumps forward. “Master... My Countess.”

“Nnn. Didn’t I tell you to stay tied up?” Dick says slowly, trying to fight off the way his limbs are limp and won’t respond to him.

“I took the implied ‘until I come’ and went with it.” Jason grins, tightening his hold on Dick. 

Dick huffs, relaxed in Jason’s arms. “I suppose I do always expect you to take initiative. I’ll let it go this once.”

“My Master is so generous.” Jason says with amusement. He leans back, taking Dick down to the mattress, continuing to cuddle him as Dick slips into sleep. 

When Dick wakes up, he’s alone in the bed. Which isn’t surprising, but he’d hoped that Jason would at least still be in the room. He sits up, pulling the covers up over his naked body, when Jason opens the door, peering around it before grinning at Dick. 

“I brought you breakfast.” Jason says, bringing the tray into the room while the door shuts itself firmly. He sets the tray down on the bedside table. “I tried to be back before you woke up, but of course, my Master is awake already.”

“I don’t normally eat in bed.” Dick shrugs, looking over the tray and seeing cereal. “Alfred let you bring me cereal?”

“What Alfred doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Jason says with a chuckle, looming over the bed.

“Hmm. Well, don’t just stand there.” Dick shakes his head, pretty sure that a smile is growing on his face. He reaches out, grabbing Jason’s wrist and pulls, so that Jason is forced down and along the bed. They end up with Jason sitting against the headboard, Dick curled up between his long legs. “There, much better. If we’re going to be lazy in bed, then we’ll do it properly.”

“As you wish, Master.” Jason snorts, apparently content to be leaned upon while Dick starts to munch on his cereal.

It’s peaceful and, dare Dick say it, even nice to be together like this, as if they’re any other couple. Dick can’t help but wonder if it would be the same if Jason were human. If he were a normal soldier of Hellsing, would they still be cuddling up together on the bed? Would Jason be reading the paper, catching up on the news, while Dick ate?

“I’d be reading a book.” Jason says quietly, resting his chin on Dick’s shoulder. “And you’d probably have more bite marks all over you... But yes, I’d like to think it would be the same. Although I don’t know that I’d have got your attention if I were a lowly soldier.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Jason.” Dick says, his spoon clinking into the bowl when he drops it there. “Your drive and your passion would stand out anywhere. The handsome face doesn’t hurt either.”

“Such praise from my Master today!” Jason says, all affectionate teasing as Dick turns to look at him. “I must have pleased you last night.”

“You did. And you can do it again right now, Count.” Dick murmurs leaning up for a kiss.

 _As you wish, Countess._ Jason says telepathically as their lips meet.

***

“Good, you’re all ready.” Alfred says, pleasantly surprised that Dick’s already in his fancy clothes. 

Dick looks up from his paperwork, trying to ignore how starchy and stiff his suit is. “Just catching up on some last minute things before we leave. But yes, I’m ready.”

“Then, I shall fetch the car in twenty minutes, Sir.” Alfred says, giving Dick a nod and then slipping out of his office as silently as he came.

“You should be more excited, Master. It’s not every day her Majesty knights a new member of the Round Table.” Jason says from his position over by the fire. He’s got his legs crossed sitting in the high-backed chair, and the flames reflect off his sunglasses in a menacing manner.

“I’ve been a member of the Round Table for years.” Dick shrugs, thinking of all the meetings he’s had to attend of the secret council that protects Great Britain. “And I’ve met her Majesty before. This is simply a formality.”

“Still... You should be on your best behaviour for her.” Jason says, pulling a surprisingly gentle smile onto his face.

Dick blinks, tilting his head to study Jason. “I didn’t realise you approved of her so much?”

“Elizabeth? Of course. More than I liked her father, even.” Jason grins. “She’s a plucky young thing, that Elizabeth.”

“Young thing...” Dick mutters, his eyebrows raising in surprise. Jason liking the Windsors seems unlikely, given his own history with ruling a country. Dick realises he’d assumed that Jason, as a deposed prince and leader of armies, would be aggressively against the ruling classes; that he’d be at the forefront of criticising them, and their hoarding of wealth from everyone else. Especially after what the invading countries had done to his province. 

Jason’s entire demeanour tends to yell very loudly how unapologetically critical he is of human authority. And yet he seems almost respectful about the Queen. It’s unexpected, to say the least. “Huh. I would have thought you weren’t that impressed by our monarchy. You don’t think you could do better than them?”

“...No.” Jason says quietly. His face dips down and Dick blinks as it looks like Jason’s genuinely upset by the question. “I think history has proved I was... Unsuccessful and reviled. For good reason. I lost my way.”

“Jason...” Dick says, setting down his pen, to give Jason his full attention.

“But then again, at least I wasn’t like Edward.” Jason sneers, staring down into the flames beside him. “That fool didn’t deserve the Crown; it’s just as well he gave it up.”

“I would’ve thought you approved of him abdicating.” Dick watches Jason’s reactions. “Falling in love and being willing to give it all up for them?”

“He was trained from birth to take the throne. He knew what he was getting into.” Jason says, face impassive as the light from the fireplace continues to reflect off his glasses. “He chose his own happiness over his country’s. He ignored all the warning signs of war and abandoned his people, leaving his brother to pick up the pieces. He was weak. I _never_ liked him.”

“You left your homeland for love.” Dick says quietly, watching Jason’s reactions. “He did the same. I’d have thought you’d have more sympathy for him.”

“No.” Jason says, after a long pause. His sunglasses vanish and he turns his face to make eye contact with Dick. Those glowing red eyes are full of pain and disgust at himself. “I loved my wife. I would have lived and died for her a thousand times... But I would never have put either of us before Wallachia. I committed crimes so great that I began a whole new way of warfare. I became a legend, both good and bad, for all the good it did me, or Wallachia. Because that’s what it means to rule. George knew that; Her Majesty knows that. You know that, and that’s why I respect and follow you, Master.”

“It’s lonely.” Dick blurts out, tearing his eyes away from Jason finally. “A heavy load to bear.”

“Shakespeare wasn’t wrong. ‘Uneasy is the head that wears a crown’, indeed.” Jason says, getting up and walking over to Dick. His long fingers reach out to touch Dick’s hair, which is getting a little too long. It’s reaching the bottoms of his ears; the back is brushing over his collar, inky black against the bright white of his suit jacket. It’s at that awkward in between stage where it’s too long to be smart and proper, but too short to even try to tie it back. He really should have had a haircut days ago, but there’s no time for one now. Unfortunately, he’ll just have to look a little shaggy and unkempt. At least there’ll be no cameras at his knighting. “Of course, having a tidy hairstyle might help.” Jason grins, and Dick rolls his eyes at the teasing.

“No.” Dick shakes his head, only helping Jason’s fingers to slide deeper into his strands. “I don’t think it makes a difference.” Jason tugs gently at Dick’s hair and the gasp that escapes his mouth is an embarrassing squeak. 

“Hmm.” Jason’s other hand finds its way into Dick’s hair, tugging and pulling at the long strands. “Intriguing reaction.” 

“Stop that, I need to go soon.” Dick says, half-heartedly swatting at Jason’s forearms. Jason doesn’t stop, combing through his long dark locks, tugging occasionally and letting the tips of his fingers scrape over Dick’s scalp, so pleasantly.

Despite himself, Dick can feel his body relaxing as Jason plays with this hair, his fingers becoming more regular and rhythmic on his head, turning what was idle touching into a full head massage. “Look at you, relaxing into this. You carry so much tension in your neck and shoulders; I wonder how I never noticed it before.”

“Aaah.” Dick sighs, letting his eyes slip closed. “Because it doesn’t matter? There’s always another thing to be dealt with, finances issues to be negotiated...” Jason’s interrupting snort isn’t missed by Dick. “Sir Penwood can only do so much; Intelligence to be gathered and compiled.” 

“Master, those are all things you pay _other_ people to do.” Jason chides. “I know because I checked on the payroll.”

“If the next thing you’re about to say is that you and Alfred are underpaid, I’m going to point out you’re an asset, not an employee, you don’t get paid at all; and Alfred is getting a pay rise anyway.” Dick says, shoulders going limp as Jason does something with this thumbs that makes him bite his lip to avoid making a pornographic noise.

“He deserves it.” Jason grins, pulling Dick’s head back so that he can grin down at him. “He’s also brought the car around to the front, so I should probably stop feeling you up, and let Young Elizabeth wave a sword around your face.”

Dick chokes on his own tongue at Jason’s wording. “You... Are incorrigible, Count.”

“You’re very welcome.” Jason says, stepping back to let Dick stand up. He gives a mock-bow, looking up at Dick from his bent over position. “Countess.”

“I’ll need to comb my hair again.” Dick sighs, reaching up to touch whatever mess Jason’s left it in.

“I think you look fine, Master.” Jason grins again, all mischief and madness.

Dick throws Jason a deeply unimpressed look. “Of course _you_ would. You like me looking debauched. Mostly because you’re doing the debauching.”

Jason just smiles wider, that rictus grin taking over his face.

Dick sighs, and turns to find the small hanging mirror that his father always used to check his beard and moustache in before leaving his office. To Dick’s surprise, not only does his hair not look a debauched mess; but that Jason’s left it fully combed through, leaving it soft and silky, with a hint of a wave that he inherited from his mother. Nothing’s changed about the length, but Dick looks deliberately styled instead of simply too busy to remember basic things like haircuts.

“You don’t like it, Master?” Jason asks, looking as close to the picture of innocence as a 560-and-more year old vampire with countless kills can possibly come to.

“I think you missed your calling, Jason.” Dick says, picking up his coat and hanging it off his shoulders. “You should have been a hair stylist, not a vampire. But there’s still time to change your career if you’re serious about it.”

“Very funny, Master.” Jason actually rolls his eyes. “But you’re satisfied with it?”

“Yes. I am.” Dick smiles at Jason, shoving his hands into his pockets to avoid grabbing his face, kissing the hell out of him, and ruining all his good work. “Thank you.”

Jason uses his telekinesis to open Dick’s office door, letting Dick stride out in front of him. He knows Jason will follow in his own time and own way, his aversion to actually using the more modern ways of transport amusing considering how much he likes to geek out over the specifications of guns, cars, and anything mechanical, really. Once Alfred has driven Dick to his destination, Jason will melt out of the shadows, ready and willing to walk at Dick’s heels, showing off the power of the Hellsing Organisation to anyone with the intelligence, rank, and thought to watch.

It gives Dick the confidence and security to walk throughout the halls of palaces, parliament, and Whitehall alike as if he belongs there. He’s the head of Hellsing, sworn to protect his country from supernatural beings that threaten it. With Jason by his side, nothing can stop them. The Queen herself is giving them her blessing, by knighting Dick in his own right. It’s an honour, and Dick is determined that her confidence in Hellsing, and his leadership, won’t be misplaced.

No longer will Dick feel like a fraud when he’s called ‘Sir Hellsing’. It’ll be _his_ title, true and earned. Dick stands a little taller, his shoulders back and his head held high as the steward calls his name. Dick enters the audience hall, ready to kneel for his queen, to receive the touch of her sword on both his shoulders, and to be finally, fully inducted to the Round Table.

_Age Twenty:_

Dick’s used to seeing the clothes that he pulls from Jason’s body vanish into thin air as if they never existed. (Truth be told, Dick’s not entirely sure that they do.) So, he pays no mind to where Jason’s frockcoat and jacket fall, or his waistcoat and shirt. All Dick cares about is getting to see Jason naked from the waist up and eager for Dick’s touch. 

When Jason’s standing there in front of him, that small private smile on his face, Dick can feel his heart leap in his chest. The reverent way that Jason reaches out to undo Dick’s buttons, carefully shedding him of layers of clothing that end up neatly folded on a nearby chair is breathtaking. Dick feels as if his lungs pause in his chest until Jason’s stripped him entirely naked. Jason may still be the only one wearing ‘clothes’, but Dick’s in full control.

Dick pushes at Jason’s bare chest, and to his surprise, Jason actually moves back, his knees hitting the side of the bed. Dick gives another little push and with a pleased smirk, Jason sits down, his legs spreading just enough to give a comfortable seat for Dick. “Very good.”

Dick straddles Jason’s lap, his knees on the bed either side of his hips. He presses a little on Jason’s chest again, and he takes the hint, lying back and staring that fixed, unblinking gaze of his up at Dick. “Like this, Master?” Dick wants to wipe that smirk off his face; replace it with fevered pleasure.

“Yes.” Dick nods, leaning over Jason. His hair slips over his shoulder, the ends barely reaching his nipples. He rests his elbows beside Jason’s head staring down into those red eyes. He leans down for a kiss, those cool lips on his whispering nearly inaudible promises that make Dick’s blood boil. Dick’s fingers curl into the bedcovers for a brief second before he can feel something solid in his grip. It takes him a second to realise that Jason’s laced their fingers together, his long gloved fingers resting on the back of Dick’s hands. Dick sits up, his hands still tangled with Jason’s. 

“You look so good spread out on top of me. So ready to be filled...” Jason murmurs, his eyes bright and happy.

“I’m still not going to be having your children, Count.” Dick snorts, biting back a smile. “You can fill me up as much as you like. It won’t happen.”

“That sounds like a challenge I’m more than willing to take on, Countess.” Jason says, his voice full of mirth at Dick’s implied offer.

“Speaking of challenges.” Dick says, his eyes flicking to Jason’s gloved hands still holding his. “I want to try something different today.”

“I’m always willing to try different.” Jason grins, pushing up to sit easily.

“I’m not sure _I’ll_ like it.” Dick says after a pause. It’s hard admitting something like that. Especially to Jason. Dick always does his best to be strong for him, but sometimes he wants to be weak for a while too.

“Tell me if you don’t.” Jason says, no hint of anything but serious honesty in his face or voice. “And we’ll stop.”

“I want...” Dick takes a breath, a quick little nervous inhale that he knows Jason catalogues, but makes no comment on. “I want you to hold my hands above my head while I ride you.”

Jason’s face splits in a wide grin. “As you order, my Master.” He lifts their hands up, pulling Dick’s arms above his head and backward until his elbows are pointing up by his ears. His grip is firm, Dick can’t get his hands free, he tugs once, to make sure and, yes, that grip is not letting go at all. He turns his head to look at Jason’s gloves wrapped around his wrists, nothing but shadows filling them. 

Dick looks down to the smugly satisfied smile that Jason’s wearing. “It’s acceptable, I suppose.” Dick says, and ignores the way Jason’s smile widens, thrilled that he’s pleased Dick. “Get the lube.”

A shadowy tentacle slips into Dick’s bedside drawer, pulling it open and retreating with the tube that Dick had requested. Dick doesn’t need to do anything but raise a single eyebrow before Jason’s shadows have opened the tube, letting the slick dribble out before they move around behind him. “I know you prefer to do this yourself, my love, but allow me this once.” Jason’s eyes are blown wide with lust, and Dick can’t find it in him to say no.

“Just this once.” Dick nods, and the slicked up shadow dips between his legs, circling his hole, before pressing up inside him. Dick’s eyes flutter shut as the thin shadow tendril grows and twists inside him, opening him up slowly but surely. It’s not as good as Jason’s cock. Dick thinks it’s probably only a psychological difference, but it just _isn’t_. 

“You’re always so warm inside.” Jason breathes into Dick’s skin, the cool air giving him goose bumps. “So warm and alive and _mine_. Oh, how I’d love to put life into you... Breed you so full of our children; you would never want for anything ever, Master.”

“I don’t want for anything now, Count.” Dick laughs, breathily. “I _have_ everything I could ever want.”

“I long to give you what you yearn for.” Jason says, kissing at the sensitive skin of Dick’s pectoral.

“What makes you think you aren’t?” Dick bites his lip as the shadow tentacle begins to massage that one spot inside him. Dick’s toes curl without his permission, and he wants to sag into Jason’s grip, wants to just let Jason have his way with him... But he won’t. Not today. He’s still Richard Wayne Grayson Hellsing; and today he’s in control. Jason will give him what he’s asked for. “Enough. I want your cock.”

“As my Master orders.” Jason laughs quietly, one set of hands coming around Dick’s hips to steady him, while his gloved ones still hold his wrists behind his head. “I’m ready for you.”

Dick feels the familiar stretch as he slips down on Jason’s hard cock. It fills him up inch after inch, until he takes a deep breath and finally feels the cool skin of Jason’s hips on the backs of his thighs. “Yes!” Dick groans, feeling it in his throat.

“Do you ever wonder how it feels?” Jason smirks at him, unholy fire in that fixed unblinking gaze centred on Dick’s face. “What’s it’s like to be inside you, Dick?”

“Tell me.” Dick bites his lip as he grinds down on the cock inside him, letting it open him up and hit all those places that he loves to be stimulated.

“You’re as wet as a woman.” Jason says, his hands gripping Dick’s hips, simply to hold on. He doesn’t even attempt to steer or move Dick in any way, letting him rise and fall on his cock, pleasuring himself as _he_ wants.

“You haven’t had a woman in over a century.” Dick snorts, shaking his head to flick his hair away from his eyes. He almost misses the minute flinch that crosses Jason’s face.

“That was uncalled for, Dick.” Jason narrows his eyes for a brief moment. “And doesn’t change the fact that, yes, you’re as wet and tight as a woman. You feel hot and velvet soft; and so good that a man might give up any gods he believes in to simply have one more chance at fucking you.”

Dick can’t help the shudder that runs through him at Jason’s words as he bounces harder and faster on his cock. The way that each thrust makes his prostate _sing_ as it’s knocked, the low timbre of Jason’s voice as he whispers filth and praise at the same time. “Jason...” Dick moans, the white-hot electricity of his orgasm starting to build up.

“Oh, if I were human, the temptation to breed you daily would be too much to resist.” Jason smirks, the faintest of flushes visible on his pale cheeks, the only sign that Dick gets that Jason is coming deep inside him.

“Jason!” Dick cries out, feeling the way Jason squeezes on his wrists, the same way his hole is clenching on Jason’s cock as he empties himself all over Jason’s abs. 

Dick slides off Jason’s cock, trying to ignore the mess he can feel leaking out of him. “I wish sex wasn’t quite so messy.” Dick sighs, rubbing his face into the pillow. 

“I’ll clean you up, like always.” Jason says, shrugging one shoulder. Dick lifts his head to blink at him, a little fuck-stupid.

“A warm cloth would be nice.” Dick bites back a yawn.

“No need for that, Dick.” Jason grins, and his eyes flicker slightly. Dick can feel the liquid dripping down his leg suddenly change direction, moving away from the direction of the mattress towards Jason.

“What the fuck?” Dick blurts out, twisting to look. He’s not sure what he was really expecting, but blood running down his thighs wasn’t it. “But I’m not hurt!”

“Master...” Jason gives him a slightly disappointed look. “I’m a vampire. What did you think I was leaving inside you all this time?”

Dick opens his mouth in shock and then forcefully closes it. “I never thought about it. Semen, I suppose, given how much you like to talk about filling me with babies.”

“If only.” Jason sighs, wistful at the mention of children. “But no. It’s blood.”

Dick’s nose wrinkles before he can stop it. “I can’t work out if that’s disgusting or something I should have expected; and honestly, I’m tired to even decide that right now.” 

“You should have expected it.” Jason grins, pulling Dick into his arms and sliding one gloved hand into Dick’s hair, playing with it gently. “But sleep now, Master.”

“Only wake me up if the world is ending, or we’ve run out of cereal.” Dick mumbles into Jason’s chest. It’s the best always cool pillow. Dick sometimes wishes that Jason could spend every night with him, but he knows it’s simply not practical. Jason has to sleep in his dirt-filled coffin, after all.

“One night...” Jason says, so quietly that Dick almost misses it while his eyes slip closed. “One night, you’ll want to give yourself over to me. To let me take control for only that night... And on that night, Master, you’ll know true control and true pleasure. To lose yourself, and to come out the other side; how will it change you, I wonder?”

“Jason...” Dick’s lips move and give the sound even as sleep takes a deeper hold on him.

“Master.” Jason gently moves a lock of Dick’s hair that’s falling over his forehead, tucking it tenderly behind his ear. “Maybe after that, you’ll consider forever.”

***

After a long day, Dick finally makes it back to his bedroom. He closes the door and heaves out a deep sigh, letting his eyes slip close; when he opens them again there’s a dog on his bed. A large, black dog. A very large dog. It’s taking up at least half of Dick’s king-size mattress, and not all of the dog’s body is on the bed.

Dick doesn’t own a dog. And certainly not one that large!

He’s about to grab his gun and shoot it, when the beast lifts his head and opens his eyes. All three pairs of eyes are glowing red; and hanging from its mouth is a silver cross, on a chain that’s slung around its neck and attached to its collar. 

Dick blinks, and then exhales slowly. “Really, Jason?”

Jason huffs, looking over at the unused fireplace. A sense of disappointment fills the room and Dick rolls his eyes as he takes of his coat and shoes.

“I know you weren’t happy about what happened yesterday, but not talking to me is ridiculous.” Dick sits down on the bed shoving his hand deep into Jason’s fur. “Since when have you had a dog, or is that a wolf, form, anyway?”

“Years.” Jason huffs again, the word slightly distorted by the canine mouth and the cross pressing down on his tongue. “Years.”

Dick strokes the soft black fur, feeling how Jason tenses and then relaxes into the movement, a lot like a beaten dog who doesn’t know how to receive a gentle petting and can’t trust it. It makes Dick wonder exactly how often Jason has had a touch that wasn’t a blow with intent to kill, aside from himself of course. Probably not in centuries. Maybe not since he was alive... “Well, I’ve never seen it before. Is it a natural form of yours? Or did one of my family’s experiments give it to you?” 

“No’ one of th’ experimenss.” Jason slurs again. “Iss a familiar. I star’ed using it af’er I came to Englan’.”

“You did?” Dick pauses in his stroking and Jason pushes his head into Dick’s hand. He might be upset about the dressing down Dick gave him in front of the soldiers, (which Jason had instigated himself, after all!) but not so much that he’s not still craving Dick’s touch. “So, it’s not a wolf then?”

Jason opens one baleful eye and looks up at Dick. “No, Mas’er.” There’s an unspoken ‘idiot’ that Dick can hear perfectly clearly, even if Jason would never dare say the word. The eye closes and Jason lets out an unnecessary whuff of breath. “Blag Dogs a’ an English th’ng.”

“I suppose they are.” Dick nods, scruffing his fingers in the fur at the back of Jason’s neck. “Black Dogs, Werewolves, and Hellhounds.”

“Werewo’ves are esstin’t.” Jason mutters, tail wagging hard enough that the bed shakes under them. Dick thinks he means extinct, but that seems like a clarification for another time. “Bas’erville.”

“Basserville?” Dick says, before the slurred word clicks in his head. “Baskerville? The Hound of the Baskervilles? I thought that was just a detective story.”

“No.” Jason finally lets the cross drop from his mouth. “The legends it was based on are true. A pack of hellhounds haunting the moors, I was intrigued.”

“So you checked it out?” Dick says, wondering when Jason had the time between getting off the Demeter in Whitby and arriving at Carfax Abbey in London.

“It only took one night.” Jason shifts resting his huge head on Dick’s lap, huffing softly when Dick strokes his ear. “I ate the pack of ghost hounds and their owner; and then I had a hellhound as a familiar. I’m quite fond of it. Nice and loyal.”

“Are you planning on sleeping on the end of my bed?” Dick grins. “My loyal, faithful servant.”

“It’s a comfortable form.” Jason grumbles, shifting closer to Dick and resting one massive paw on his thigh next to his large and heavy head. “Would you let me, Master?”

“Are you going to stop huffing and sulking about being told off?” Dick says, biting back a smile. “Because I’d consider it if you did.”

Jason’s tail is wagging even before Dick stops speaking. “I don’t know what you mean, Dick, I’m not sulking at all. Here I am, even offering...” Jason pauses, his eyes shutting and reopening as if embarrassed. Which is odd because Jason _never_ gets embarrassed. His tail, however, keeps wagging. “Cuddles.”

“You’re offering cuddles.” Dick says blankly, feeling like his entire universe has been upended and his brain has been turned inside out. That sentence doesn’t make sense. It just doesn’t! “Cuddles. You. Offering.”

“Oh dear, did I break you, Master?” Jason says, giving a toothy doggy smile. He seems deeply pleased with himself, his tail wagging furiously.

Dick stares at the smile, the gears of his mind turning. “You’re messing with me.” The relief is strangely overwhelming; the disappointment less so, but still noticeably there. “Jason!”

“I’m sorry, Master. I couldn’t resist.” Jason ducks his head, looking up at Dick and giving him puppy dog pleading eyes. Six of them. It doesn’t work as well as Jason probably hopes it does.

“You’re definitely not sleeping on the bed tonight.” Dick says, tapping Jason on the nose. Hard. Jason doesn’t even so much as flinch, but it makes Dick feel a little better.

“Not even if I offer real cuddles?” Jason tilts his head, staring up at Dick will all those glowing red eyes. “I can change back to a more human form if you like?”

“I’m not sure that would be an improvement.” Dick sniffs, forcing his face to stay flat and unamused. He knows that Jason can tell he’s laughing on the inside, but giving him the satisfaction of seeing it? He’s not earnt that yet. “I might prefer you like this.”

“Master!” Jason fakes sounding surprised. “That’s a kink I never knew you had. I’m not sure I approve.”

“No.” Dick chokes desperately on air as the implications of Jason’s words sink in. “Bad dog, no biscuit.” 

“I am a very bad dog.” Jason says gleefully. “But my Master lets me sleep at his feet anyway.”

“Not tonight.” Dick says, feeling a yawn pull at his mouth. He swallows it down, barely. “Tonight, your master will be actually sleeping; and you, my faithful dog will be guarding me from your room, like a good boy.”

“Dick, I’m not—” Jason protests, suddenly sitting up and making the entire bed move.

“All dogs are good boys, Jason.” Dick interrupts him, not wanting to know exactly what Jason thinks he isn’t. “All of them. And I need a night alone.”

“If you’re sure, Master.” Jason says doubtfully. “I’d like to run the grounds, instead of going to my room. If that’s allowed.”

Dick blinks, feeling the languor seeping into his limbs. He really needs to get changed and into bed. “Of course. Just don’t leave the estate.”

“As you wish, Master.” Jason bows; an odd thing to witness when he’s in a Hound’s shape. “Sleep well, Dick.”

“Goodnight, Jason.” Dick nods, watching as Jason fades from view. He pulls his clothes off haphazardly, leaving him in his undershirt and boxers, climbing into bed and under the covers in less than a minute. He’s asleep before his head even touches the pillow. 

***

_Age 566:_

Jason pads down the stairs, his short claws clicking on the stone with each step until he reaches the bottom, and his feet meet gravel. It’s a beautiful night, with the moon hanging full and heavy in the sky; a light breeze ruffles the leaves in the trees, bringing all the scents of the world around him to his nose.

If Jason were in human form, tonight would be perfect for drinking some fresh, hot blood. As it is, all he longs for is the joy of movement, of running until he hits the boundaries of the estate. He wants his body to pump the blood inside it hard, wants his breath to puff and pant in heated clouds as he pushes this form to the limit. He longs for a fight, but a run will have to do; unless of course he’s lucky, and some fool of a true vampire tries their luck, and Jason can let go, release the Restriction System to Level One and have the most magnificent, wonderful To The Death fight.

Jason is not that lucky, so tonight he will have to enjoy what he can.

The grass under his feet is cool, and already slightly damp with dew. The estate of the Hellsing estate is vast, as befitting a paramilitary organisation meant to defend an entire country. Jason has plenty of space to roam and explore. After he’s run his fill, which takes longer than he expected to, he slows down to a walk, ending up at the crest of a hill; the perfect spot to moon-gaze and wonder at how different the stars in the sky are from the way they were in his youth.

The lonely moon reflects back at him, shining gentle silk light down and bathing the surrounding meadows and gardens in shades of grey and silver. It’s peaceful, calm. It feels like the prelude to a storm... A sense of waiting, an expectation in the air that Jason can practically taste. 

He can smell it in the breeze, the faintest hint of gunpowder and petrol; no doubt from the tanks that Hellsing keeps in its stables. But beyond that... The hint of blood spilling from a human. The sounds of human hearts beating fast with exertion, and the faintest of moans to go along with it. Jason focuses on the sounds only for long enough to work out that they’re not the noises of combat. Jason loses interest immediately. Since he found Dick, the only sex that rouses him is with his Master.

For nearly a century, Jason had resigned himself to the fact that no one would ever love a monster like him. A certain amount of affection might be found; Alfred and the Windsors immediately springing to mind; but love, real love? Jason had believed that it was entirely out of reach. Enslaved as he is to the Hellsing family, the notion that one of his masters might genuinely care for him; want him... Love him? It’s almost laughable. And yet, as he always has ever since Jason met him; Dick has blown all his expectations to dust. His Master; his Countess. A love that he never thought could be returned, but is. 

Jason’s seized with the need to see Dick once again. He could look on him from here, but he wants to see him in person. To look on that sleeping face, peaceful and resting the way Jason’s been denied for centuries. He stands up, feet slapping into the long grass as he runs back to the manor. He _must_ see Dick. A few blissful seconds of being with him before he slinks off to his cell, and waits out the remainder of the night, with only his thought and memories to keep him company.

Jason makes his way up the stairs to Dick’s bedroom silently. It’s easy, far too easy, to slip into his room. Jason’s part of the household security systems after all, and bound by layers and layers of magic that prevent him from hurting the Hellsing family, Dick has nothing to fear from Jason being in his room. Despite the ease it gives him, Jason can’t help but think it should take more effort for him to be standing at Dick’s beside, staring down at his beautifully alive face and longing to reach out and touch him.

“Jason...” Dick whispers in his sleep, a happy sigh.

Jason takes another second to simply gaze upon his love’s face before he does as Dick ordered him to earlier; and fades through the shadows to his cell to wait for the coming dawn.


	3. Chapter 3

_Age 568:_

Jason listens with half an ear as he walks into Cheddar village; it’s swarming with Ghouls, which means there’s a real Vampire for Jason to fight. Dick’s miles away, explaining the situation to the local police and army that have quarantined the area to try to contain the sheer amount of deaths. 

_“Ghouls are what happens when a vampire's victim is not fed blood. They're something like zombies, but controlled by the vampire. So, it's safe to assume a vampire's present in that village.”_ Dick pauses, probably to light up one of his cigarillos. Jason hates them, but Dick thinks they make him look more experienced, somehow. They don’t, but Jason can’t bring himself to tell him that. _“Local officers don’t get told about this, because you don’t need to be. The Hellsing Organization has battled these monsters for over a century. We’re the secret service set up to destroy these freaks.”_

Jason stares up at the moon, thinking what a beautiful night it is. Nights like these are perfect for drinking blood. Something about how they’re so nice and quiet, it cries out for violence and death. The way the breeze carries the scent of all life around him, making his frock coat sway gently as he walks, and the stillness of the dark night that covers a monster such as him moving through the land; that the humans around him are so unaware of a creature like him being so close... It’s thrilling.

 _“There's a vampire controlling the Ghouls. You're up against a monstrosity. No matter how many troops you send in there, you're just giving them a meal.”_ Dick continues, and Jason can’t help but grin at how easily he’s taken control from the Army Colonel, and the Chief Inspector of Police.

 _“Draculs and Draculinas only breed more vampires by feeding their own blood to their victims before biting them. Some are simply food and end up becoming ghouls. Nothing but a vampire's servant._ Dick pauses again, no doubt blowing out cigarillo smoke. _“In order to stop the ghouls from multiplying you need to kill the head vampire. And Hellsing will see this vampire to his end. One of our men is a special anti-vampire expert. He's on his way to Cheddar as we speak. It should all be over in a few hours.”_

There’s a pause, and Jason assumes that whoever Dick’s talking to is speaking, probably asking who the anti-vampire expert is.

 _“He’s a monster, especially when it comes to vampires. No one is more of an expert than he is.”_ Dick says, the pride in his voice making Jason feel a burst of warmth in his chest.

Jason hears a young woman screaming “No!” very close by, and he knows he’s found his target. His pleasant walk through the Somerset countryside is over. Now he gets to have _fun_. Leaving the shadows of the trees, Jason sees the Vampire and his horde of Ghouls surrounding the young policewoman he’d heard scream. He has to admit, the sheer amount of Ghouls the Vampire’s amassed is pretty impressive. Not many vampires could manage controlling that many at once.

“Who the fuck are you?” The Vampire sneers. It’s obvious he has no idea who Jason is, or he’d be quaking in his false priest’s vestments. Even if he didn’t know Jason’s name, or that he ‘works’ for Hellsing, the sheer amount of power Jason has at his disposal should be clear to the Vampire.

Jason smirks. “A professional killer.” It’s something of an understatement, but again, the Vampire doesn’t know that. There are so many other things he could have said. Warlord. Prince. _Monster_.

“An assassin? You? Are you serious? Kill him.” The Vampire scoffs, clearly dismissing Jason without another thought. The Ghouls swing up the guns on their shoulders, a given since every single one of them is either military or armed police squad members. They start firing, and it’s pretty indiscriminate. They hit Jason over and over, leaving him riddled with bullet holes, a mess of torn asunder body parts on the ground, contained only by his ripped red frockcoat and gloves, his hat falling into pieces; only his glasses miraculously avoiding being shattered somehow. The trees behind him are nearly decimated in the volley after volley of bullets. “Spent already, assassin?” The Vampire jeers.

As Jason reconstitutes himself, his shadows flaring out at their maximum, a little bit of theatre he allows himself, since it’s clear that the Vampire in front of him won’t require anything above Level Three to deal with him. Jason stands up with a manic leer, and he can hear Dick continue to speak, miles away. _That's right. A human anti-vampire expert is unreliable. They get hurt too easily, and die too easily. They're just plain weak. Vampires are the best at destroying their own kind. And we, the Hellsing Organization, have ourselves a domesticated one. He's a first-rate vampire at that._

Jason takes his .454 Casull out of its holster, the weight of it an old familiar friend. While it’s an oversized gun; not a sword, as he spent centuries fighting with; it still feels part of him anyway. It’s his favourite possession, no question. It’s a firearm that no normal human could hope to shoot, the kickback from the overlong barrel more than enough to break bones, and possibly permanently injure them. With ease he shoots a bullet into each of the Ghouls, circling around to destroy them and setting free the poor bastards’ souls that were trapped. They turn into dust the instant one of Jason’s explosive bullets enters their heart or head, leaving nothing but ash on the wind. 

He thinks Dick will be pleased that he manages to deal with so many in so little time. For all that his Master is a fan of the dramatic, and tends to add extra showy moves in to his own fighting style; usually to hide how he uses the added momentum to increase the force of his blows and kicks; he’s also a huge fan of Jason being efficient as much as possible. He pays the Vampire no notice while he screams in shock that his men are so easily disposed of. “Thirteen mm explosive steel rounds alloyed with silver melted from a Lanchester cross. There's no freak around who can eat these and come back for seconds.” Jason says gleefully, watching the Vampire’s face fall further in despair.

“Why is a fellow vampire in league with humans?” The Vampire screams, clearly losing his nerve. He pulls the policewoman in front of him, using her as a shield. “Don't move, assassin. This is the only survivor! Don't you want her to live? Help me get out of here! Or pretend I got away!” 

Jason ignores the Vampire again. It’s a despicable move, and Jason’s so disappointed in him that he doesn’t even want to play with this one. A swift death is all he deserves. Using a mere human as a defence, he’s no great monster, just a pathetic snivelling worm. Instead he turns to the policewoman in his grip. “Hey Blondie, are you willing to drink blood to live?”

“What the hell are you on about?” The Vampire yells, clearly getting more desperate as Jason continues to ignore him.

“I asked if you're willing to drink blood to live.” Jason says again, staring at the young woman intently. 

“Bastard...” The Vampire snarls, clearly gearing up to give some sort of speech. Jason’s not interested.

“Answer me!” Jason snaps, loudly. It shuts the Vampire up, which is a small blessing.

“Yes!” The policewoman says, blinking rapidly. Her fear is obvious, but she’s not willing to give up. Jason’s vividly reminded of Dick. “Yes, I is!” 

It’s all Jason needs to aim his Casull at her, pulling the trigger twice, sending bullets through the policewoman into the Vampire behind her. The force of the shots pushes the vampire back, dropping the woman, leaving her to fall to the ground. Jason wastes no time in moving close enough that he can punch his hand right through the Vampire’s ribcage, destroying his heart.

“You... You bastard!” The Vampire chokes out before he collapses in a pile of bright blue flames.

Jason turns to the policewoman on the ground, currently drowning in her own blood. “I shot through your lung to hit his heart. Sorry, this gun leaves a big hole, so you don't have long.” She reaches up blindly, still fighting for life, and as her hand falls down, Jason kneels down, catching it in his own. He ignores the way his red frockcoat is getting covered in her blood as he does. “What will you do?”

“Please...” The woman whispers, her life blood gushing out around her fast. “I dun wan’ t’ die...”

“Then drink, Blondie.” Jason says, in as comforting a voice he can manage. He slits open his wrist, letting drop after drop drip from the wound into her mouth. The policewoman licks her lips, and closes her eyes, forcing them open a second later. Jason leans down slowly, gently biting into the unblemished skin of her neck, taking a few gulps of blood. “You have sweet blood, Blondie.”

“Thanss.” The policewoman whispers as her eyes fall shut a second time and Jason hears her heart slow to a stop. 

“Tonight really _is_ a wonderful night.” Jason sighs, pleased and satisfied right down to his bones. He’s taken down a Vampire, killed his fill of Ghouls, and now he has a fledgling to take home to his Countess. A wonderful night indeed.

~*~

“What were you thinking?” Dick grits out between his teeth, clearly spitting mad, but doing his best to seem calm. “Hellsing is here to eradicate vampires, not create new ones!”

“I had my reasons, Master.” Jason says, standing back a little further than he usually does when he’s alone with Dick in his office.

“And they’d better be absolutely solid ones, Jason.” Dick bites out. “I have to explain why I let my pet monster turn someone to the Round Table. I did _not_ need that extra stress.”

“They are.” Jason says, staying deathly silent and letting Dick work out his anger in his own time.

“Well? Do be more forthcoming about them, Vampire.” Dick says coldly, and if Jason couldn’t feel how angry Dick is through their mental bond, that one word would be enough to let him know exactly how much Dick thinks he’s fucked up. 

“There were several.” Jason shrugs, casually as if he’s not watching Dick’s every facial expression and body movement like the predator he is. “I could say it was a whim...”

“Jason.” Dick says sternly, and if Jason was one to make unnecessary movements, he’d sigh.

“She reminded me of you... Even at death’s door, she was still fighting.” Jason admits, keeping his gaze on Dick’s lovely face. Even frowning in anger it’s utterly beautiful.

“I refuse to believe you did this on _whim_ , because a dying girl reminded you of me.” Dick scoffs, angrily opening his box of cigarillos and lighting one with jerky movements until he gracefully throws down the lighter onto his desk. The act makes his long black hair, tied back low, swing from over his shoulder down to his back.

“It wasn’t the only reason. There were others.” Jason watches as Dick forces his anger under control as he puffs on the rolled tobacco. “But you know how I feel about humans not giving up in the face of overwhelming odds.”

“I do.” Dick glances over at him, the crease between his brows smoothing out the smallest amount. “The other reasons, Jason.”

“Those two really aren’t enough?” Jason stalls, because it’s one thing to have the reasons, it’s another to admit them to _Dick_.

“For the Round Table or Her Majesty? No. For me?” Dick takes a long slow drag on his cigarillo. “Possibly.”

“There’s the reason that you won’t want to repeat, and one that you will.” Jason says, not moving a muscle, even as he relaxes with the slight lessening of Dick’s emotions. “The one you will is that no being is immortal...”

“Not even you, yes, I know you’ve said so enough times over the years.” Dick blows out smoke.

“So, you having another protector? A companion for you, should I finally meet someone who can end me? It’s not a bad idea. Someone who’s not had enough of this world yet. Blondie wanted to stay alive.” Jason lifts one shoulder in the smallest of shrugs. “It made sense to me.”

“A decision you should not have taken without my explicit permission.” Dick says, but Jason can feel his anger draining away, not simply being suppressed. “And you will be punished for that.”

Jason nods, accepting that he’s going to have be seen to scolded and punished by Dick’s detractors. They can’t afford for Dick to be seen as losing control over Jason. “And the other reason was...”

“Go on.” Dick says, raising one almost amused eyebrow in a move he clearly learnt from Alfred. “The other reason I won’t be telling people is?”

“Well, I can’t get you pregnant, so here’s a daughter for us?” Jason says, trying to move his mouth into a self-deprecating smile. “All the joy of a child, with none of the mess of childbirth; or the required care-taking of a toddler?”

Dick stares at Jason, his gaze boring into Jason’s face long enough that if Jason were human he would be fidgeting in the silence, waiting for a response.

“You made a child. For us. By turning a young woman.” Dick says very slowly. “Without asking me.”

“Well, Master, when you put it like that, it sounds...” Jason trails off. If he knew what embarrassment was, he’d be feeling it right now. He ignores the faintest hint of shame licking up his spine. 

“Yes?” Dick says with a dangerous glint in his eye. Jason’s heart would sink in his chest if he had one. Well, if there’s one thing he can do, it’s being able to take his mistakes and move on from them with no hint of remorse.

“Reckless, and dangerous, and something that should have been a mutual decision before it was ever made a reality.” Jason says, trying to deftly pick the words Dick would use from Dick’s head without him noticing.

“Are you reading my mind, Jason?” Dick says, a hint of smirk playing on his lips, even as his eyes narrow in annoyance.

“I may well be, Master.” Jason does shrug this time, aiming for casual. “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re right.”

“You’re admitting you fucked up?” Dick sounds surprised, his whole body going lax with it. “I never thought I’d see the day when you did that.”

“I fucked up only in that I should have talked to you about wanting this outside of sex. We should have had... Plans in place. So that you wouldn’t be caught out by the Round Table, or anyone else.” Jason says, meaning every word. He takes several long strides until he’s standing in front of Dick, kneeling down in front of him, the same way he did when they first met. “I apologise for my behaviour, Sir Hellsing, my only Master. I will accept whatever punishment you see fit.” 

“My Count...” Dick sighs, resting his hand on Jason’s head, pushing his hat off to curl his fingers deeply into Jason’s hair. “Your punishment will be to closely monitor Hellsing’s newest acquired asset, and no more, until I say otherwise.” 

“Yes, my Master.” Jason closes his eyes, focusing solely on the glorious weight and heat of Dick’s hand in his hair, keeping them tethered together. They stay in that pose for several, wonderful, long moments until Alfred’s typical knock comes at Dick’s office door.

Dick turns back to his desk while Jason stands and turns to face the door. “Enter.”

“Excuse the interruption.” Alfred says, entering with a sheepish looking Blondie following him in. Tim’s standing behind her, his face a perfect mix of confusion, anger, and the kind of embarrassment he only ever gets around a woman he’s attracted to. Which is very interesting to Jason, and something he’ll have to bring up with Drake to rattle his nerves at the next earliest opportunity. “We’ve brought Ms Brown to see you.”

“Er... ‘ello?” Stephanie says, looking nervously around. “I’s still very confused as to how I gots here.”

“That was me.” Jason says, and Stephanie turns to look at him, then looking up at to Jason’s face. “This is Sir Hellsing’s home. You’ll be living here now.”

“Oh aye.” Blondie blinks up at him, her eyes still a blue that Jason remembers is the exact shade of cornflowers. “Thanks ever so much, Ser Hellsing.”

“How are you adjusting to being a vampire?” Dick asks, blinking when he sees Stephanie’s eye colour. Dick immediately follows it by asking Jason telepathically _‘She hasn’t drunk human blood yet?’_

 _‘I left her with Alfred and several bags of blood to drink. It’s surprising she hasn’t drunk any by now.’_ Jason replies. _‘She’ll drink some blood soon enough, I suppose.’_

“Ah. I’s not really wrapped my head round it.” Stephanie says, ducking her head and letting her long blond hair fall into her face. “It all happened so fast.”

“Could you tell me in your own words what happened? Jason here has been less than forthcoming.” Dick says, looking down at his cigarillo only to realise that it’s gone out. He relights it with an exhale.

“Master didn’t tell ye?” Stephanie looks startled; a flush coming over her face. She still looks so human, it makes Jason’s teeth ache to bite her again. Her blood was tasty, but there’s ever sweeter blood in the room that he desires far more than Stephanie’s. 

“No.” Dick gives Jason a look once more. Jason feels a little insulted; there was nothing wrong with his mission report. He’d even included all the gory details that he usually leaves out because Dick trusts him to get the job done, for once.

“I told you the relevant details, Master.” Jason says, giving a small shrug that he knows both Dick and Stephanie pick up on. Alfred might, but he’s pretty sure Tim didn’t.

“Master’s Master? So... Ye sent yer monster down Zummerzet way, and I’s got shot, see?” Stephanie smiles ruefully while she scratches at the back of her head. “And then I’s drunked his blood, and I’s got my neck sucked on, and now I’s a vampire too!”

“I see.” Dick says, nodding seriously. How he manages to keep a straight face is beyond Jason. “Did he ask for your consent?”

“Oh, aye.” Stephanie nods, completely guileless. “I’s not sure if I’s disappointed that he didn’t say ‘I vant to suck your blud’.” It’s the worst attempt at an eastern European accent Jason’s heard in a while. It’s made all the worse by the fact he knew what accent she was aiming for. “Has ye ever said ‘The children of za night, vat bee-yoo-tiful moosic zey make’?”

“I don’t sound like that.” Jason keeps his voice bland, no sign of irritation or amusement. Dick glances over at him and _smirks_. “And I have not. Damn Irish man, Abraham should never have talked to him.”

“Aye, ye do, Master.” Stephanie looks up at him, big red eyes blinking innocently. “All Transylvanian, like! ...Wait, is I’s gonna sound like that too?”

Dick, the _bastard_ stifles his laughing fit behind his hand. Jason somehow manages to keep a smile on his face, but he narrows his eyes to almost a squint. “No. Your accent will stay as it is.” He barely manages to stop saying the ‘unfortunately’ lingering on the tip of his tongue. 

“Oh aye.” Stephanie smiles. “That’s good. Can you imagine if people couldn’t understand I’s!”

Dick and Jason exchange a look, while Dick bites his lip, hard. _‘I can’t wait for her to annoy Tim.’_ Dick says telepathically. 

Jason thinks about Tim’s reaction of probable horror at meeting Stephanie, and grins, wide and manic until the pull on his cheeks starts to sting. _‘I could start something so that they’ll argue faster, Master?’_

“That would be terrible.” Dick says out loud, letting the smile onto his face. “You know on second thoughts, Stephanie, I think you’ll fit right in here.”

“Aww, thank ye, Boss.” Stephanie says, looking shy and flicking her gaze over to Jason. “Y’can call me Steph.”

Jason can feel the pull of the sun breaking over the horizon. It’s been creeping up for a while, but now it’s getting stronger. Time for his fledgling to be in her coffin. “Time for bed, Blondie.”

“Aww, but I’s not sleepy?” Stephanie rolls her shoulders, as if proving that she’s awake and energetic. “Please call me Steph, Master. Is I’s name.”

“Blondie is fine for you right now.” Jason says, starting to walk out of the room. “And it’s time for all good draculinas to be in their coffins. The sun is rising.” Jason doesn’t wait to see if Stephanie goes to her own room. He heads for the basement floor, and the peace and quiet of his own chamber. He doesn’t need rest, but he needs to be alone. 

_‘Jason.’_ Dick says quietly, as Jason descends the steps. _‘I like her. I’m still not that happy you turned her... But I’m glad you brought her to us.’_

 _‘You’re welcome, Master.’_ Jason says, closing the door to his chamber. _‘Goodnight. Good Morning. Whatever.’_

 _‘Sleep well, my Count.’_ Dick’s voice lingers in his mind. Jason settles in his chair, staring at the darkness and willing peace to come for at least a few hours.

***

It’s late at night once they return to Hellsing Manor. Jason’s still digusted at the Instants from earlier, while feeling proud of Stephanie for using her vampiric sight to take out one of them. He follows Dick into his bedroom, not really thinking about what he’s doing. His thoughts are still on the pointlessness of the murders committed recently. Jason hates Instants; they have no concept of what it truly means to be a monster, so they act out in the most petty and mundane ways of evil.

“Jason.” Dick says impatiently, and Jason snaps out of his thoughts at his Master’s tone.

“Master?” Jason lifts his gaze from the floor to Dick’s lovely face, framed perfectly by his long dark hair. 

“I said I want to try something different this time.” Dick frowns slightly, fingers twitching like he wants to light a cigarillo, but for some reason, he’s not pulling out his cigar case.

“I’m always willing to try different.” Jason says, grinning at the memory of the last time they’d started a conversation exactly like this.

“More different than last time.” Dick says, shrugging off his coat and pulling the tie from his hair. His coat lands on a nearby chair and the tie lands in the waste basket.

“Consider me intrigued, Master.” Jason grins, standing in front of Dick and kneeling so that he can look up at his glorious Master and adore him. “Tell me what you want from me, and you know I’ll give it to you.” 

“I want you to do all the work for once. I want to lie back and enjoy myself.” Dick voice is strong and sure, but his face shows how nervous he is.

Jason blinks, just once actually not sure if he misheard. “You want me to do all the work?”

“Yes.” Dick doesn’t elaborate.

“You’re giving yourself over to me? Letting me take control just this once?” Jason says, staring intently at Dick. He’d hoped for this for so long, and now that it’s here, Jason feels almost beside himself. 

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Jason.” Dick says, his cheeks flushing lightly, looking away.

Jason moves forward, standing up to lift Dick up in his arms. He spins him around and carries him to the bed. It takes no effort to brush gently against Dick’s mind, making sure he really does want this. What he finds there is overwhelming. While Dick is hesitant, mostly over what will happen afterwards, there’s no doubt there about what he wants. 

What does jump out at Jason is that Dick’s worried about the state of their household now that Stephanie’s a permanent fixture. That Jason will be spending more time with her than him, (never mind that it’s Dick’s orders that mean Jason’s around Stephanie, and not at Dick’s heels, as he prefers to be) and this is Dick’s way of proving to himself that Jason’s still as loyal as ever. Which is fucking ludicrous. Stephanie’s his fledgling, and therefore important to Jason, but she’s nowhere near as precious or beloved as Dick is to him. 

“What have I told you about reading my mind, Jason?” Dick frowns, and Jason drops him down onto the bed.

“My apologies, Master, I just wanted to make sure.” Jason says, still smirking as he starts undressing Dick.

“If you want to make sure, then here are your orders, Jason!” Dick says, a spark in his eyes as Jason continues to strip him naked. “I want you to push me down on the bed, and make me come until I can’t anymore. Find my limits, _Monster_.”

“As you order, my _Master_.” Jason grins so wide that his cheeks hurt. “Prepare yourself, Countess. I’m going to leave you breathless and fucking wrecked.” 

By the time Dick’s in nothing but golden skin and loose inky black hair; Jason’s pushed him all the way up the bed, his hands wrapping around Dick’s ankles. He hoists them up and out until the only point of contact Dick has with the bed is his upper back and arms. Dick’s gripping on to the bedcovers for stability, so Jason looms over him; kneeling up so that his extra height crowds Dick’s world down to just Jason and the bed. Dick’s biting his lip, trying to keep quiet.

“Jason...” Dick murmurs, more to focus himself than get Jason’s attention.

“Keep your hands there, Master.” Jason says as he stares down at him. A shadow tentacle slips out and fetches the lube from Dick’s bedside drawer. Moments later, Dick’s lubed up and ready to go. Jason dives in, putting his mouth to the tender skin of Dick’s inner thigh. He can _taste_ the blood beneath the surface and his fangs ache to bite down. Instead he shoves his tongue inside Dick’s waiting hole, flicking around as deep as possible. The taste of blood and the desire humming through Dick’s veins is all he focuses on, but Dick’s making the quiet groans and moans that Jason loves. He keeps going until Dick’s cock is hard and dripping, keeps going and going, tongue fucking him into an orgasm that leaves Dick breathless, and a little shaky.

After that, it’s easy, so easy, to slide inside him. Pushing in feels like coming home; the rush of relief and affection of stepping inside the place he belongs; it’s exactly the same. Dick gives a breathy little moan as he’s filled, eyes narrowed to slits, but that bright blue is burning white hot beneath those lids. Jason holds Dick’s legs a little higher, a little further apart, and starts to pull out of Dick, slowly.

“I can take faster, _Count_.” Dick says, a little breathlessly. His cock is hanging hard down his stomach and pearls of precum are beginning to form at the tip. He’s clearly enjoying this far more than either of them thought he would. 

“You’ll take what I give you, Countess.” Jason says, pushing back in just as slowly. Dick frowns, opening his mouth to speak, but Jason cuts him off. “It’s my turn to do all the work, remember?”

Dick frowns once more, and Jason smirks, pulling out quickly and snapping his hips in at the exact angle that makes Dick scream as he hits his prostate. Jason keeps the pace fast and brutal, the tight clutch of Dick’s body around him as close to heaven as Jason will ever get. It feels like every backwards motion causes Dick’s hole to attempt to suck him back in, wanting to be filled and _stay_ that way. 

“V-voivoide...” Dick stutters out, and the place in Jason’s chest where his heart used to be twists in surprise. 

“Contesă mea...” Jason replies, pushing Dick’s legs back and down, so the he can lean down over him. It gives Jason even greater access, and the sweet friction increases with every thrust. The heat of Dick’s body is always so breathtaking, or it would be if Jason needed to breathe. Dick’s almost bent double now, his knees touching his shoulders, and Jason leans down to kiss the noises out of his mouth. The instant their lips touch, Dick cries out; his cock jerking and wet warmth spreads between their bodies. 

Jason grins into the kiss. It’s always a little ego boost when Dick comes with his cock untouched, but Jason’s not going to stop. Not yet. He has his orders to take Dick to his limits, and his Countess is nowhere near that yet. He drags his hands down Dick’s calves, letting them bend over his shoulders. 

He can’t quite keep up the fast and furious pace like this, not without hurting Dick at least, so Jason takes it down a notch, still thrusting in hard enough to make the bed shake, and Dick moan and tighten his grip on the bedcovers, but only in pure pleasure. “Draga mea...” Dick moans, and Jason’s chest swells at being Dick’s love.

He lets Dick’s legs fall down to his elbows, sliding his arms out from under them to shove them under Dick’s back and up to his shoulders, his fingers tangling with Dick’s long lose hair. Dick wraps his legs around Jason’s waist without thinking, pulling him down further to the bed. Jason stretches out, letting his legs go out from under him. “My _Master_ , my only true master... You are glorious!”

Dick looks up at him, eyes wet at the over stimulation, because Jason hasn’t once ceased or faltered in thrusting into him. “Jason... Don’t stop.”

Jason kisses him in reply, this thrusts slowing, getting sweeter and more precise as Jason splits his concentration with unrelentingly hitting Dick’s prostate with every thrust, and kissing all the noises out of Dick’s mouth, sometimes before he can ever make them. Dick’s legs drop down past his hips, and Jason slows down further, throwing his head back to relish in the drag and thrust as he moves within Dick. Jason’s hands cup Dick’s head, and when he looks down, trying to stare into Dick’s soul through his eyes, Dick’s gone from being merely misty eyed, to actually crying. “Master?”

“I’m... I’m so close. I don’t... Think I can come again after this.” Dick gasps out, fingers gripping into the bedcovers so tightly they threaten to rip.

“Then come for me now, Master.” Jason whispers, holding Dick as tenderly as he knows how. “Hold on to me, and give me everything you have.”

Dick comes nearly silently, with breathy moan, shaking hard as Jason moves so gently, not stopping as Dick’s body clenches down and seizes with pleasure for the third time tonight. It’s enough to let Jason finally, finally, come too.

Jason rolls off of Dick’s limp body, feeling sated right down to the bone. Dick’s staring up at the ceiling lost in thought, but Jason can tell he’s feeling overwhelmed, a little lost to the feelings he wasn’t really prepared for. He’s worried that something has changed between them, that in giving up control for the night he won’t be able to regain it. Jason gathers him up under his arm, and Dick rolls into his side, resting his cheek on Jason’s shoulder wordlessly. He’s so distracted that he hasn’t even noticed that Jason’s instigated cuddling _without_ being asked!

“Well, that was certainly different.” Jason grins widely, one hand lying possessively on Dick’s hip; trying to provoke a little life into Dick, but he’s not noticed that either.

“Did you like it, Jason?” Dick’s voice is uncharacteristically soft and quiet.

“I did, Countess. You were as glorious as I knew you would be.” Jason trails his fingers up Dick’s side. “Did you?” 

“I...” Dick swallows nervously, his throat bobbing. “Yes, I did. I did, Jason.”

“You know true control, and true pleasure now, Master.” Jason pulls Dick in tighter. “You lost yourself, and came out the other side; has it changed you?”

Dick hesitates, sitting up a little. “Jason...”

“You don’t need to answer.” Jason says, sliding his fingers back into Dick’s loose hair. “You should sleep, Master. And tomorrow when you wake up I’ll follow your orders flawlessly like always.”

“Goodnight, Count.” Dick says as he relaxes at Jason’s side almost instantly, letting sleep take him, and Jason grins. 

“Goodnight, Countess.” Jason whispers, brushing a barely there kiss to the top of Dick’s head.

***

“Jason, why is your fledgling, and half of my men, out on the hill right now? They’re meant to be working.” Dick says, an edge of irritation in his tone.

“No idea, Master.” Jason shrugs. He’s not going to watch Stephanie every second of the day. She’s an adult, and can look after herself. 

“That’s not the right answer.” Dick says, fixing Jason with a look.

“Why don’t we go and ask then?” Jason says, holding back a sigh with ease. If nothing else it’ll get Dick out of the office for a little while. “You need a short break, and you want answers. Two birds, one stone.”  
Dick doesn’t reply, but he does stand up, walking away from his desk in his usual manner that expects Jason to follow him.

When they get to the hill, Stephanie is climbing it with a large cheese wheel while Hellsing soldiers cheer her on. She chases the wheel down, both going at a breakneck speed, while the soldiers whoop loudly.

“Really, Stephanie?” Dick says when the wheel rolls down to his feet and the crowd falls silent. 

Stephanie shrugs, a smile on her face. “We’s just having a little fun now, Boss!” 

Dick looks at the crowd which slinks off without a word. “Why?”

“We’s celebrating I’s getting a visit from the spirit of I’s weapon. Harkonnen spokes to I’s in a dream last night.” Stephanie beams. “He looks right like Brendan Fraser in The Mummy, though. Not that I’s complaining. I’s wouldn’t kick him out of bed.” 

Jason brushes against Stephanie’s mind gently, peeking in to the dream she’d had last night. The spirit of the Harkonnen is indeed the spitting image of Brendan Fraser. Jason had thought Ardeth Bey was more interesting, but there’s no accounting for taste. Dick had like _Jonathan_ the best. “Well. Congratulations, Blondie. It’s a good sign of your growth as a draculina that you’ve communicated with the spirit of your weapon.” Jason says, dropping his eyes down to the now fallen wheel of cheese. Cheese. Fuck, Jason misses eating it. It’s been literally centuries since he tasted any. He could probably try some, but then Blondie probably won’t be able to roll it down the hill. Jason kind of wants to see her chase it down again.

“Can we not be serious for five minutes?” Dick sighs, failing to resist the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose to stave off an oncoming headache. “We’re supposed to be professionals.”

“I’s very serious about cheese, Ser Hellsing.” Stephanie peers up at him, confused. “But Cheese Rolling ain’t be a _professional_ type sport. Is all amateurs.”

“I’m trying to be serious and brooding over my lack of humanity, but honestly, the cheese rolling is too amusing.” Jason says, grinning widely. Dick turns to give him a withering look; Jason mostly manages to wipe the smile of his face. Mostly. The second Dick turns away he can’t stop the smile from returning. His fledgling’s certainly someone special.

***

Jason’s not that impressed with complete lack of any living soldiers left in Badrick. Dick had sent him and Stephanie to take out a vampire, only to find the old country house was completely over run with Ghouls. Jason’s having more fun than he probably should be having, taking out wave after wave of Ghouls with his guns. He’s taken so many out already that he should probably let Stephanie have a little practice.

“Blondie!” Jason calls out, indicating she should take over. She steps out and Jason observes her form with her Harkonnen canon. She’s got a good stance; her vampire strength counteracting the ridiculous size and weight of the Harkonnen with considerable ease.

“My enemies are puppets, not humans, just puppets. Aim and fire, all over in one shot.” She mutters to herself as she gets into fighting, her eyes glowing red with her bloodlust. 

“Blondie! Only aim for the heart or the head.” Jason says, still hanging back. “They didn't become Ghouls because they wanted to. There's no way to change humans back once they get like this. All we can do for them is end them, quickly.”

“Aye, master!” Stephanie calls out, she shoots any Ghoul close enough in either the heart or head as instructed, and Jason takes a moment to think what a good decision he made turning her. 

She’ll make a fine successor once she’s fully trained up. And then maybe Jason will finally be free to... No, he shouldn’t think about that now. About how he’s caught between the twin desires of always being at Dick’s side, and finally seeking his true death. He can’t leave Dick now, he’s the only light in his life, his hope that maybe he’s not the irredeemable monster he’s knows he is. Dick is the possibility that one day he can cease being a monster. But he has the growing suspicion that the only way to do that is to die. And to die in his love’s arms would be a fine death...

Jason turns from his thoughts to checking on Stephanie, watching as she pushes her foot into a Ghoul’s head and presses down until it’s nothing but a smear on the floor. “Well now, it seems you're catching on to what it really means to be a vampire.” Jason grins. His amusement is stopped short by the sudden choking noise Stephanie makes as a blade is thrown through the back of her neck, the tip poking through the skin at the front. It’s followed by several more embedding themselves in her back. She falls down and looks up at Jason piteously. “Blessed bayonets?” Jason pushes his senses out further and realises there’s a barrier around the building, stopping them from trying to escape.

“We are the mouth of God, earthly agents of divine punishment! Our mission is to destroy to the last those fools who would oppose the Lord.” Heavy footfalls come down the stairs, belonging to a hulking man dressed like a priest. The man, although Jason barely wants to call him that, turns to them and smirks. “Nice moon out, eh? You abominations.” The moonlight shines behind him, glinting off the many swords and knives he has strapped to his back. 

Stephanie moans, trying to stand. Jason feels the smallest swell of pride at the way Stephanie’s fighting to survive. 

“Stop whimpering. I don’t care how much pain you think you’re in. It’s not enough to kill your kind. Not one of them went through your heart.” The man wearing priest’s vestments says. “I haven't gone vampire hunting for far too long; it's only fair I enjoy myself.”

“Vatican Section XIII. Iscariot.” Jason sneers, staring at the man. Although Jason knows that’s just what the Vatican calls them. Truthfully, they’re mercenaries from the Middle East and Asia, hired exclusively centuries ago by the Roman Church to do their dirty work. Jason would use an entirely different word for them, one that would probably make Dick snort and roll his eyes, and tell him to finally move into the Twentieth Century with the rest of them. “No, you call yourself the League of Shadows, don’t you? The Vatican’s hired killers. Because they couldn’t possibly sully their own hands.”

“How right you are, Hellsing mongrel. I wouldn’t be wearing this nonsense if they didn’t insist.” The League of Shadows assassin pulls at the robes, clearly not fond of them. “So you're Jason? Hellsing's trump weapon, the vampire that's sided with humans to hunt other vampires. My name is Damian Al Ghul. I want you monsters to know who has slain you.”

“What happened to the vampire who was here?” Jason says, fairly sure that he already knows. 

“I dealt with him. He was nothing. A nobody; didn’t even take enough time to enjoy it.” Al Ghul, the false priest, sneers, confirming Jason’s suspicions. “The only ones left are you bastards.”

Jason and Al Ghul walk towards each other, and Jason can feel the rictus grin pulling at his face. “You don’t say.” They stop barely a step behind each other, Jason pulling his guns out at the same moment Al Ghul pulls out two swords. Jason lets Al Ghul stab him, partially because he thinks it’s sporting, but also because it disarms him, leaving Jason free to shoot him at point blank range. That’s not to say that two blessed bayonets stuck through his upper chest don’t sting, but it’s worth it, to blow his brains out for what he did to Stephanie. The shot goes right through the man’s skull, the power of the large bullets knocking the large man down and into the wall. Jason turns to look at the corpse.

“He attacked a vampire head on at night with no tricks. He was quite brave; though a fool.” Jason considers the body for a moment before turning to Stephanie. He pulls the blessed bayonets from his chest, letting them fall to the floor. It stings, but he ignores it in favour of going to Stephanie’s side.

“Master.” She whispers, barely able to move with several bayonets through her chest. She’s not complaining though, and Jason knows he picked a good one.

“Don't talk; you've got blessed bayonets through your body. You won't be able to recover...” Jason freezes, suddenly aware that the assassin is standing behind him, giving off a murderous aura. “The fuck?”  
“Surprise!” Al Ghul smirks, not giving Jason time to even turn around before shoving another two blessed bayonets through Jason’s chest from behind. 

It hurts, but Jason jumps away, ignoring the sting to increase the distance between them. For the moment, Stephanie will have to fend for herself. Daddy’s busy.

Al Ghul laughs, slightly unhinged, when Jason aims his guns at him, shooting at least ten bullets into various body parts. He rolls away, getting back onto his feet, and Jason is a little impressed at his willpower to move when he’s that hurt. The moment’s distraction is all the assassin needs to take advantage, pulling two more bayonets out and rushing at Jason. 

He manages to get his swords to pierce Jason’s hands, pulling them away from his guns. Al Ghul keeps pushing until Jason’s pushed up against the window frame of the corridor, his hands pinned to the wood, firmly enough that Jason can’t just tug them away. It hurts, but Jason’s had far worse. No, the pain is nothing compared to the anger at being pinned like a butterfly. No normal human should be able to do that to _him_ , Jason of Hellsing! A bullet pushes back out of Al Ghul’s face, the skin healing around it instantly. Jason knows now how the man had been able to take multiple gunshot wounds and not let it slow him down.

“A Regenerator?” Jason stares down at him, disappointed. He doesn’t approve of humans turning themselves into monsters. They’re meant to kill them, not become them. Isn’t his fall from grace enough of a warning to those considering it? Humans are so frustrating and disappointing.

“That's right! A technique humanity had to develop to fight the likes of _you_.” Al Ghul sneers, stabbing at least twenty bayonets into Jason’s chest, before holding up two more swords and using them both to slice Jason’s head cleanly off in one quick movement. His head falls to the ground with relatively no pain, and rolls right over to where Stephanie is still laying on the floor.

“Master!” Stephanie’s a brave resourceful sort, and she’s already pulled out some of the bayonets. Enough that she can pick up Jason’s head, and begin to limp away. Being carried is not something Jason enjoys, but with his head separated from his body, he can’t use his voice.

“This was Hellsing's trump card? This is the strongest of the vampires? He was nothing. What a joke!” Al Ghul scoffs, disdain in his voice as he continues to stare at Jason’s decapitated body. Stephanie makes a little noise, and Al Ghul turns to look at her limping away. For a moment, Jason can see something like surprise and approval on his face. “Oh? So she can still move after that much damage. Seems I underestimated that draculina a bit.”

“Master? This is terrible. You got I’s into this and left I’s alone.” Stephanie whispers to Jason. There’s not much he can do about it now, being in two parts as he is. She’s made it a decent distance down the corridor, but the going is slow, painfully slow as she leaves a blood trail behind her on the wall she’s leaning against. “I’s can't do this.”

“Where're you heading off to? There's nowhere to run.” Al Ghul calls out after Stephanie, two more swords appearing in his hands as he makes his way over to her. One of the bayonets flies through the air and impales Jason’s head, pinning it to the wall. Jason would be amused by the irony if he could move his face. As it is, it’s slightly irritating that he’s pinned. Looks like it’s time to stop playing dead, and fight back properly now. “I’ll turn you into dust, like all your kind.”

“I's got to run, I’s must get back to Ser Richard and report.” Stephanie whispers to herself, tearing he gaze from Jason’s face to the window. She reaches out and a crackle of electricity blocks her from touching the window, and the hope of escape. “What’s this?”

“That's a barrier, girl. One that's impossible for vampires to get through.” Al Ghul says, moving ever closer. “Now be quiet and let me kill you, monster.”

“I's gonna die. I's gonna die!” Stephanie says, looking around, desperately trying to find an escape when there isn’t one.

 _Is this anytime to panic, Blondie?_ Jason says straight into her mind. He lets both his body and his head dissolve into nothing but a pool of blood, spreading across the floor and slowly heading towards Stephanie. It’ll be easier to bring the two parts together as a liquid anyway. Jason spares a thought to think how irritated Dick will be that Jason let the fight get so far.

“Master!” Stephanie whispers, shocked and confused. Jason realises she had no idea he could do this. No idea of the powers she has at her fingertips, if she’d only embrace them.

“Drink my blood, Blondie.” Jason urges her, his blood forming his words in writing on the floor by her feet. “You'll be a full vampire, not a fledgling. A true Vampire. Drink my blood; walk the night under your own power as a No-Life King. Drink my blood, Stephanie Brown!” 

Whatever decision Stephanie’s making is interrupted by Al Ghul appearing behind her. She freezes as the Assassin whispers into her ear. “You’re dead.”

Stephanie turns slowly to look up at him horrified, paralysed with fear, as he raises his blades up high to finally finish her.

A gunshot rings out; Al Ghul jolts back when the bullet catches him dead centre of his blade.

~*~

Al Ghul’s blade shatters into pieces, leaving Stephanie safe. For now.

Dick Grayson says, standing at the end of the corridor, smirk full on his face and gun extended, pointed at Al Ghul. “That girl belongs to us.” He’s flanked by Tim and another Hellsing soldier that Jason doesn’t recognise. It’s good timing... Almost suspiciously good timing. It’s like something out of the action blockbusters that Jason tells no one he likes to watch on his downtime. He has a sneaking suspicion that Dick might know anyway. He’s probably accidentally left a few DVD cases in Dick’s room. But the fact that Dick’s here at all... Someone friendly must have told Hellsing that the Vatican was making moves.

“What do you think you're doing, Damian Al Ghul?” Tim bites out, flicking his wires out. Jason’s surprised to see him there. Dick usually makes sure they don’t have any field missions together. It shows just how worried Dick must have been about the two of them facing off with Al Ghul that he brought Tim along anyway. Jason would think it was sweet if he wasn’t so offended that Dick thought he needed _Tim’s_ help. 

“This must be important indeed to bring forth the director of Hellsing himself.” Al Ghul says, letting his arms fall by his sides as he turns to face Dick. Jason’s not fooled by the lack of attack stance, the man is as dangerous as he was twenty seconds ago.

“Damian Al Ghul, you're in violation of the treaty. This place is under _our_ jurisdiction.” Dick says loudly and firmly, the barest of smirks on his face, lowering his gun. “Withdraw at once! Failure to do so will result in a serious issue between us and the Vatican. We won’t let you do this, even if you are with Section XIII, _Iscariot_. The League of Shadows has no place here.”

“You're telling me to withdraw? The Vactican itself sent me here to be the earthly agent of divine punishment! Don't provoke me, harlot. You really think we'll give ground to your filthy organisation?” Al Ghul’s breath puffs out in clouds as he pulls two more bayonets out, lunging at Dick and his soldiers, cutting the one Jason doesn’t know down almost immediately, and severing his arm for good measure; blood flies everywhere, slicking the floor. The man goes down in shock, and Tim barely avoids being injured, throwing up his wires to protect himself. It doesn’t miss Jason’s attention that he’s protecting only himself with those razor-sharp wires. Jason would frown if he was corporeal. 

Al Ghul changes direction, and Dick has barely enough time to pull his own sword, holding off the blades aimed at his neck with his sword, the other bayonet blocked by his arm. His arms shake with the effort of keeping the blades away. It forces him to the wall, leaving him nowhere to go. “You’re the ultimate in Biotech regeneration, and healing too? Bloody monster!” 

“Every one of you are too weak. What a joke.” Al Ghul leans forward, pushing his face closer to Dick’s. Dick doesn’t outwardly cringe, but the flicker of emotion in his eyes is enough for Jason to know he wants to. “And your high and mighty vampire lost his head. I cut it right off.”

“You cut his head off?” Dick scoffs, a smirk appearing back on his face. The disdain in his voice is loud and clear to all. “That's all?”

“What?” Al Ghul pulls back, frowning. It wasn’t the reaction he was expecting, that much is obvious to Jason.

Stephanie scrambles to her feet, grabbing her Harkonnen which is laying close by; in a show of strength that once again makes Jason sure he picked the right successor. “Get your hands off of Ser Richard! You freak of nature!” Stephanie yells loudly in a firm voice, showing none of her previous fear.

“There's no way for you to win, Al Ghul.” Dick’s smirk is firmly on his face, even as he’s slid down the wall a few inches from the pressure Al Ghul’s exerting on him. “Walking away quietly would be in your best interest.”

“Just after I finish you two off, harlot.” Al Ghul sneers, not taking his eyes off Dick. Jason wants to punch him punch right in the face for getting that close to his Master.

“Then you'd best hurry. If you take too long Jason off will come back to life. Just his head, _please!_ Cut off his head? Stabbed through his heart?” Dick smirks, still pushing back on Al Ghul’s bayonets. Jason decides now is the time to move, while Dick keeps Al Ghul busy. It takes no effort at all to reform into a flock of bats, nearly blocking the moonlight from outside one of the window of the mansion. He swirls around, building up more than enough momentum for his next move. “Don't think of him as merely another vampire. Those methods are nowhere near lethal to him. Just as you're the success of anti-monster technology, the Hellsing family has spent 100 years gloriously building him into the ultimate undead! Jason!”

Jason smashes through the window, glass flying everywhere. Another moment’s thought and the bats coalesce into a human form, his long hair swirling around him in his usual Level Two form of tight black clothes, and his ever-present magic infused white gloves.

“Master!” Stephanie yells with relief and happiness. By the time she’s finished saying that one word, Jason’s back in his usual red Level Four garb, hat and glasses gone. He pulls out his Casull ready to take out his enemy. The moonlight gleams beautifully on the metal, and Jason’s reminded why he loves this gun.

Jason and Al Ghul lunge at each other at the same time, taking the assassin away from Dick. His bayonets screech along the length of the Casull, until one neatly slices through Jason’s arm. Al Ghul laughs, but his mirth stops when Jason’s arm begins to reform almost instantly from his shadows, leaving him whole and ready for more action. Jason’s mouth splits into a wide rictus grin. Al Ghul’s face falls entirely, finally looking his young age, and with a hint of fear, the first Jason’s seen on him all night. 

“Like I said...”Dick smirks, once more, standing victorious.“So what now, Al Ghul?”

“There's no way I can kill him with the gear I've got now. We'll meet again, Hellsing.” Al Ghul frowns, his eyes narrowing. He delves into his pockets, pulling out several containers and throwing them to the ground. Smoke hisses out of them and he’s lost in the fog. His voice carries through the smoke as he runs away. “Next time, I kill all of you.”

“That was close.” Tim says, in a rush of relief. He turns to glare at Jason. “No thanks to the vampires.”

“Tim. We’ve talked about this.” Dick frowns at him; and Tim turns away to help their wounded soldier stand.

“Yes, Sir. Shutting up and keeping my opinions to myself now, Sir.” Tim manages to mostly keep his tone bland, but Jason can hear the bitterness under it. He’d really not liked the absolute verbal reaming Dick had given him over five years ago, and apparently still hasn’t forgiven it. While Tim’s tender feelings are nothing to Jason, the fact he didn’t even try to protect Dick earlier from the attack sits wrong with Jason. But now isn’t the time to bring that up. It can wait until they’re back at the Manor and safe in Dick’s room. Tim helps the now armless soldier limp out past Dick, Jason, and Stephanie without a further word.

“How do you feel, Jason?” Dick says, stepping towards him once Tim is out the door. He sheathes his sword, and his hand makes an aborted motion to reach out and touch Jason.

“Been a long time since my head got plucked off.” Jason says with a smirk. He doesn’t ask if Dick is injured. He can’t smell any of Dick’s sweet blood from the outside, and Dick will lie about bruises anyway. He’s as fine as can be expected. “So that was the League of Shadows’ Al Ghul? Better than I expected. If only he were fully human...”

“He crossed borders, violated the treaty; and committed acts of bloodshed. The Vatican owes us big time for this.” Dick says, frustration rolling off him. “But they’re not the ones we’re fighting right now. There's a large-scale secret organization, working in the shadows responsible for the recent string of vampire attacks.”

“Then give me the order. Tell me to exterminate them. Tell me to annihilate them. Tell me to turn them into dirt.” Jason says, feeling the rush of exhilaration that comes when Dick orders him to destroy their enemies. He can’t stop his voice from dropping an octave. “Order me, my Master.”

“If the time comes, we will.” Dick takes out a cigarillo, clenching it between his teeth and lighting it. His gaze is totally on Jason; giving him the type of look that usually leads to fantastic athletic sex at home.

“Really? I’m looking forward to it. I’ll enjoy it. Completely, and thoroughly fucking enjoy it.” Jason can’t stop the tone of his voice from being flirtatious; it’s just such a turn on to see Dick in the field, giving him orders. His Master is powerful in his own right, able to keep up with a Regenerator. 

“I know you will.” Dick grins around his cigarillo. “Much like you’ll enjoy the time we’ll spend together once we get back home.”

“I always enjoy the time we spend together.” Jason grins, picturing Dick in nothing but his long loose hair, straddling him and gasping out his name. “I can’t help it, I love seeing you at your most glorious, Master.”

“Of course you do.” Dick lets some fondness slip into his voice, his eyes warm on Jason’s. “And while I doubt you actually even worked up an appetite with Al Ghul; I’m going to suggest you feed before you come to me.”

“Oh? Really?” Jason’s grin turns into a leer. “Sounds like you have plans.”

“Perhaps I just don’t want you accidentally biting me at a critical moment.” Dick snorts softly. “Drink, and wait for me in your room.”

“As you order, my Master.” Jason says, thrilled to the core. He can’t wait to see what Dick has planned. It’s always... Heavenly. Beyond what a monster like him should be allowed; but Dick not only offers, but orders, and who is Jason to say no? 

“Down, boy.” Dick shakes his head, grinning. “We’ve still got an entire helicopter ride home to get through first.”

Jason turns to Stephanie, his face blank and even, despite his confusion at why she didn’t take him up on his offer of freedom. “Hey. Why didn't you drink my blood?”

“I’s... I’s don't know, but. If I’s had drank your blood, it felt like something would have ended.” Stephanie says, looking at the floor ruefully. She clings to the Harkonnen like it’s a security blanket.

“Idiot. But, this is fine, too. Maybe it’s not so bad to have someone afraid to walk the nights...” Jason turns away, walking towards the door. “Get off your arse, Blondie. We’re leaving.”

“Yes, master! But, I's not ‘Blondie’ I’s Stephanie Brown!” Stephanie gets to her feet and dragging her canon after her as she tries to catch up and keep pace with Jason and fails.

“Quiet, you.” Jason says, stopping and turning around to glare at her. That it gives her a chance to catch up with him is _completely unintentional_. “Blondie’s good enough for you. Until you drink my blood.”

“But master!” Stephanie moans, sounding distressed, but no longer fearful. Jason knows she feels safe around him. It isn’t true, but he’s not going to tell her that.

As he leaves, Jason can hear Dick begin to follow them, talking to himself in an amused tone. “Such sentimentality from you, my Count.”

***

Jason closes the door to his room behind him, not bothering to bite back the grin spreading across his face at the thought of having Dick in here. He looks around the chamber, checking for any mess. Since the room is so empty there’s really nowhere to hide anything. His coffin is up against the back wall, leaving only a small bookshelf with books and DVD’s, his chair, sidetable with empty wineglass, mini-fridge for the sole purpose of holding blood; and tucked in the corner, his TV and DVD player. Jason lays his guns down on the side table and takes out a bag of blood, emptying into the wineglass and sipping at it, before sitting down in his high-backed chair.

Looking around, nothing is out of place, there’s nothing that would be embarrassing to let Dick see. It’s been a while since Dick came to this room. In fact, thinking back on it, Dick’s never been in _this_ room. Jason always goes to his room, and the one time Dick came to where Jason was staying, it was the deeper dungeon room where they first met. It’s an odd realisation, that he’ll finally have his Countess in _his_ rooms. One that leaves a trace of warmth in his chest.

A sharp knock at the door comes, and Jason drains the rest of his glass, pulling every last drop and remaining smears in the glass into his mouth, leaving it perfectly clean. Dick opens the door, walking inside haloed in light before the door closes behind him.

“Count...” Dick greets him, as if they hadn’t been parted less than ten minutes.

“Countess.” Jason grins, waving at him to come closer. “You had plans. Tell me of them.”

“Eager, aren’t you?” Dick says, stopping before Jason’s seated body, giving him a cool gaze. “Perhaps I should make you work for it more. Report on tonight’s mission.”

“As my Master orders.” Jason says, keeping his face in a grin, even as he’s impatient to get on to the more pleasurable part of the night. “We entered the mansion in Badrick, we found nothing but a Ghoul infestation. I took out most of them; Blondie proved her worth again, taking out an entire corridor’s amount of them. Al Ghul appeared, having already killed the vampire, and we fought.” Dick cocks his head, his hair falling over his shoulder; he puts one hand on his hip and gestures for Jason to carry on with the other. He says nothing, but his sharp gaze never leaves Jason’s. “I let him take the upper hand initially, as I usually do. However, I wasn’t expecting that he’s a Regenerator. He removed my head, and turned his attention back to Blondie. Then you arrived.”

“So we did.” Dick says blandly, narrowing his eyes.

“Blondie did admirably. I should have taken the threat more seriously.” Jason says, giving the barest shrug of a single shoulder. “You did exceptionally well against him.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Dick says, his lips turning up in a smile despite his words. “I did as much as is expected of me.”

“I noticed Tim didn’t try to back you up.” Jason says, keeping his tone as bland as Dick did before.

“I told him not to. I was, and am, perfectly capable of looking after myself.” Dick raises an eyebrow, waiting for Jason to contradict him. 

Jason pauses, thinking back to Tim’s bitterness and the flashes of emotion he hadn’t quite hidden properly. But he doesn’t really want to talk about Tim now. “Well, as long as he was following orders...”

“Did you drink?” Dick says, taking a step closer. Standing while Jason’s sitting, he’s a head and shoulders taller than Jason, meaning that Jason actually has to look up to keep eye contact with him.

“I did, Master.” Jason lazily taps one finger on the rim of his wine glass.

Dick smirks, slipping off his coat and letting it drop to the floor. Jason hides the twitch at seeing it crumpled there, and not hanging up properly. “It’s good to know that you can follow orders sometimes.”

“What fun would it be if I was nothing but obedient?” Jason lets the grin on his face widen as Dick takes off his suit jacket.

“I suppose we’ll never know.” Dick snorts, pulling off his waistcoat and tie, leaving him in his shirt, the collar hanging open. “Stay still in the chair, Jason.”

“Yes, Countess.” Jason lets his hands rest on the arms of the chair, waiting to see what Dick’s about to do. 

Dick pulls out a small silver knife, running the blade along his index and middle fingers. He offers his hand out to Jason, the blood welling up and staring to drip down. “Drink.”

“Yes, Master.” Jason whispers, leaning forward. His tongue sneaks out, and licks along Dick’s outstretched fingers. The taste explodes in his mouth, hot and alive and so intimately, exquisitely, _Dick_. It couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else’s. It’s become almost a part of Jason. More connected and vital than anyone else he ever ate, or even simply bit. He’d crossed continents for the tantalising hope of Mina Harker’s blood; and while it had been enough then, the taste of her was nothing compared to Dick. Sinead O’Connor had it right, when she sang that lovely song. 

He can’t help but close his eyes at the wonderful flavour of his love’s blood on his tongue. He sucks both fingers deeply in; making sure to get every last drop that Dick’s willing to give him. He can feel the happy, sated moan vibrate in his chest. Dick finally pulls his fingers back; Jason opens his eyes to stare up at him. Dick smirks and moves closer, his feet between Jason’s. The last thing he was expecting was for _Dick_ to get to his knees, leaning over his lap. Even the remote possibility that Dick might want to do this has never even occurred to him. It seems unreal. Surreal even, to have Dick on his knees, pulling at his belt, sliding open his trousers; implying that he’s going to give Jason pleasure first without receiving any.

“I’ve always wanted to do this.” Dick says quietly as he pushes his hand inside Jason’s trousers, pulling out his cock. “But until now, I never felt like I could.”

“You can do whatever you want with me, Master. I’m yours.” Jason replies, just as quietly. “Whatever you want, whenever you want, wherever you want, my Countess.” 

When Dick looks up at him, all Jason can see in his eyes is love. If Jason had a pulse, right now it would be quickening. Dick’s warm hand enclosed around is cock is enough to get him hard, and the way that Dick’s licking his lips makes Jason think this isn’t going to be a simple hand job. No, Dick’s going to use his hot wet mouth to suck Jason down into his throat, and Jason absolutely doesn’t want to wait to feel that. 

“I’m going to suck you.” Dick announces, a slight flush on his cheeks in perfect contrast to his dark hair. “You’re keeping your hands where they are, while I play.” 

“Yes, Master.” Jason smirks, not bothering to hide his excitement. Dick leans further forward, and his hot breath on Jason’s chill skin makes Jason go fully hard. 

The gentle touch of lips to his tip would at any other time have him lifting his hips to push further in. Instead he keeps them down in the chair, waiting for Dick to part them wider and surround him. Dick pauses for a long beat, and even though Jason can’t actually see his face, he’s pretty sure Dick’s probably smirking, teasing him with the wait. 

But Jason can be patient. He waited decades in his cell, after all. Still, his cock doesn’t get the message, and twitches while Dick lingers. Eventually that hot mouth opens, sliding down slowly taking him in incrementally inch by inch. It’s all hot, tight, wet pressure. The slide of Dick’s tongue on the underside is amazing, and Jason wishes that he’d thought to conjure up some piercings, if only to feel the unusual shapes press on Dick’s tongue. Well, there’s no time like the present, and the small noise of surprise Dick makes when Jason reshapes his body to include two long lines of a ladder piercing down the length of his cock is music to Jason’s ears.

Dick stares up at him through his long hair, and Jason grins down at him, clenching onto the armrests of his chair. Dick narrows his eyes, but sucks him down slightly deeper, beginning to bob his head up and down. The sweet wet friction of Dick’s lips wrapped around him with every thrust up and down is beyond words. Dick swirls his tongue around the piercings, leaving a tingling warmth behind that makes Jason tilt his head back and sigh in pleasure. He even begins to let his eyes slip closed. For a brief moment he’s reminded of his human life, of how it felt to be serviced by a lover, pleasured and wanted in Jason’s bed. He’s pulled out of the memory when Dick makes a muffled sound, finally pushing his head down and taking the last inch of his cock. Dick’s lips brush the skin of his pelvis, his nose blowing warm air over his skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake. Jason looks down and sees Dick drooling around his cock, eyes wide and blown, as if he’s enjoying this even more than Jason is.

Dick pulls back slowly, letting Jason’s cock slip from his mouth. He stands up, a little unsteadily and reaches forward, grabbing Jason’s suit jacket and pulling. Jason stands up, taking note of how flushed and aroused Dick is right now. His cock’s straining in his trousers, looking extremely uncomfortable. 

“Strip.” Dick says, his voice hoarse. “You’re going to bend me over this chair and make me come.”

“Yes, my _Master_.” Jason agrees happily. He lets his coat and suit jacket melt away, followed by his waistcoat and shirt. He steps forward, to help Dick undress, but he’s already shed all of his clothing. Dick turns away and kneels on the seat of the Jason’s chair, bracing his hands on the back.

Jason settles in behind Dick, who has his knees tightly together; which is not usual when Jason takes him from behind. No matter what, the view is breathtaking, and Jason’s cock leaps at the thought of being buried inside his lover. He rests his hands on Dick’s hips, spreading that awe-inspiring arse. He presses the tip of his slightly leaking cock to Dick’s waiting, ready hole, knowing that Dick frequently lubes himself up beforehand. 

But this time, Dick reaches back and slaps hard at Jason’s hand. “Who said you were allowed inside?” Dick says, glaring at Jason over his shoulder.

“Apologies, Master.” Jason keeps his voice contrite, even though he’s not the slightest bit sorry. Dick turns away, and Jason smiles even wider.

He presses in closer, making sure that with his first thrust he skims over Dick’s hole, pushing against his balls as he fucks between Dick’s thighs. It’s warm, surprisingly tight, and the friction on Dick’s soft but dry skin is amazing. Dick sighs, shifting back subtly, apparently getting exactly what he wanted. Jason slides his hands up Dick’s back, moving his left hand right along Dick’s arm, first resting it on the back of the chair by Dick’s, until he spreads his fingers, threading his in between Dick’s. 

It moves him in close enough to drop butterfly light kisses over Dick’s shoulders and neck, nosing his way beneath Dick’s long loose hair. He doesn’t feel the slightest need to bite; even if he hadn’t drunk a full bag before Dick arrived, the few drops from Dick are more than enough to keep him full and sated. Dick’s blood is better than anyone else’s in that regard; a single drop is like a full three course meal to Jason.  
With his right hand he slides it around Dick’s waist, and down further, wrapping it around Dick’s neglected cock. Dick makes the same sharp inhale of surprise he always makes when Jason touches him. Even better are the breathy groans when Jason starts gently stroking, using his thumb to caress little circles into the tip. Dick’s moaning openly now, pressing back and then forward into Jason’s grip. Jason can tell he’s getting close with how much precum is dripping out.

Jason keeps thrusting his hips and hand, a constant unrelenting movement; but he starts leaning back, pulling Dick with him until the only thing keeping Dick upright is Jason behind him. Dick cries out as Jason twists his hand sharply on one downthrust, coming hard all over himself.

“Jason!” Dick slumps down into his arms, going passive and pliant physically, but his eyes spark fire when he speaks. “Jason, come for me.”

“Yes, _Master_.” Jason grunts into his ear, letting go and spending himself between Dick’s magnificent thighs. It feels a little like dying, giving in to Dick this time, but the pleasure makes it worth it.

Jason slides out of between Dick’s legs, ducking down to clean him with long, lingering licks of his tongue. Once every last drop of blood has been removed, Jason picks Dick up easily, turning around to sit back in his chair, with Dick nearly curled up on his lap.

“You need a nicer chair.” Dick mutters quietly, letting his eyes stay closed. “More comfortable. Room for two, even. I might come down here more often if you did.”

“Feel free to buy me one then, Countess.” Jason grins, resting his cheek on Dick’s head, his arms loosely looped around his waist. 

“Maybe I will.” Dick says, burrowing his face into Jason’s chest, and sighing. “Can you imagine the Round Table discussing the budget for that? ‘Sir Hellsing, why do you need £300 for a three seater sofa and armchair? Surely, the common rooms for the soldiers are already furnished?’ And then I’d have to explain that it’s not comfortable to fuck on your pseudo-throne.”

Jason doesn’t hold back the amused snort. “If nothing else it’d liven up those boring discussions.” 

“You just like to cause trouble.” Dick says, fighting back a yawn. “My beloved monster, getting up to shenanigans once again.”

“My long-suffering Master, having to put up with uncomfortable furniture and random vampiric children.” Jason grins, pulling Dick in slightly tighter. “At least you’re getting laid?”

“You are terrible.” Dick yawns again, eyes even more firmly closed. Jason quietly uses his shadows to collect up his clothing. It’s a matter of moments before he’s fully clothed himself, and striding through the corridors to Dick’s room; laying him out on the bed and curling up next to him.

“Goodnight, my Countess.” Jason whispers quietly into Dick’s ear.

“My Count...” Dick mumbles in his sleep. Jason smiles softly, for once perfectly and completely happy.


End file.
